


Flashbulb

by SilberSaber



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Multi, Pining, canon compliant up to 4x17, dark themes, don't be fooled this fic is not happy but the ending is, not a salt fic i swear, retired old villains, vicarious relationship problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-19 21:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14246496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilberSaber/pseuds/SilberSaber
Summary: It isn’t until a full month after her death that they come to collect their dues. It’s quite courteous really, most wouldn’t hesitate to snatch up the remaining underworld at the death of its queen, but then again, everyone loved the Doc.Regardless, when the infamous Penguin finally shows up to request a meeting between them, Ed’s prepared for it. What he isn’t prepared for is everything that follows after.(Set 20 years after the events of Gotham.)





	1. A Proposition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilberSaber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilberSaber/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So 4x17 gave me a burst of inspiration and I just had to get this idea out. I’m not sure how long it will take me to update this with my other wip, but I’ll get chapters out as soon as I can.
> 
> Also, I know there’s been a lot of bitterness recently and this fic starts off with Lee dying, but I swear I love her and there’s no ship hate here <3
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifting this fic to myself, because I deserve this.

 

 

Sunsets in Gotham were a strange thing. The sky was always filled with clouds, so usually the day ended with an uneventful finale. On some days, however, the clouds were thin and the sun shown through with a red cast, lighting the skies with a bright pink haze.

That’s probably why they built it here, the cemetery that is. It’s one of the highest points in the city, giving its unfortunate company the best possible view of the skyline. The majority of them would be unable to enjoy it, of course, but for the occasional visitor, it was a nice way to spend the time in between bouts of crying.

In Ed’s case, there’s none of that happening. It’s been a month already, he’s past the tears by now, he’s made his peace with her passing. He doesn’t try talking to her or anything like that either, he needs the silence. He came because it’s one of the few quiet places he has left until all this rabble has passed on.

At least, it would be, but it seems that time has finally caught up to him.

“Well, I’ll be,” comes a voice from behind him. “If it isn’t the Riddler himself, out of hiding. I haven’t seen your face since that stunt you pulled ten years ago. You made quite the headlines that month.”

Ed releases a frustrated sigh. He’s been expecting something like this to happen, though it would have been much more convenient if it they’d been elsewhere.

“You're talking about my little ‘incident’ with the Joker. I’m glad you enjoyed it, I spent a lot of time planning it out.”

He turns around to find a man hobbling towards him on a cane, although by the looks of it, he isn’t much older than Ed himself.

“I’ve never seen the Bat so close to breaking his one rule,” the man says. “I don’t think he’s been the same ever since. It’s quite the crime to leave off on before your disappearance.”

Ed wasn’t always privy to the company Lee held, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out who he’s talking to. The dark suit, monocle and a well used umbrella to guide him through his limping steps, there’s only one person this can be.

“Edward Nygma,” he says, extending his hand.

Penguin hesitates for a moment before accepting the handshake, his grip just a tad too tight. “Oswald Cobblepot.”

“I know who you are.” The Penguin stills as Ed clarifies. “There’s very few people in Gotham that fit your exact description.”

Penguin relaxes. “I suppose that’s true.”

They both turn their gazes to the grave before them. The design had been picked long ago when she’d been the fiance to the son of Gotham’s most renowned mob boss, the style matching that of her late husband.

“You know, there was a time back before she took over when you were the the most hated man in the neighborhood,” Ed says, casting a look to his companion. “I made a hell of a lot of money dressing up like you.”

“Yes, I heard all about that,” Penguin replies with a crooked smile. “Does the real thing match up to all the stories?”

Ed shrugs. “It’s close enough.” In all honesty, he’s actually surprised. From what he’d heard, Penguin was a narcissist with a temper tantrum. He wouldn’t have expected him to be so calm about someone making fun of his appearance. Then again, he was trying to cut a deal. “I can’t imagine you’re here to pay your respects. What do you want, Penguin?”

“Nonsense, the Doc and I knew each other since the beginning, I respected her very much...But I’m glad I’ve run into you. There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss-”

“You want me to give you full control of the Narrows before someone else claims it by force. You had someone tracking me so that you could predict my movements, and then you figured you’d meet me here since it’s the place I’d be at my most vulnerable emotionally. Am I right?”

The Penguin doesn’t answer him, the truth is already plain to see. At least he’d bothered putting some effort into it.

“Fine, we’ll talk, but not here,” Ed sighs. “Just pick a time and place.”

The Penguin scoffs. “I’m not foolish enough to believe the Riddler would be so quick to-”

“I’m retired,” Ed cuts him off. “Besides, organized crime was never my style.”

“...I see.” Penguin takes a step back in shock. He probably hadn’t expected it to be so easy. To be fair, it normally wouldn’t be, but Ed had been in a special mood the past few weeks. “In that case, why don’t you come by my club tonight, we can work out the details there.”

Ed doesn’t reply. He offers a small nod before turning back and heading down the hill.

 

**.**

**.**

 

For twenty years, Leslie Thompkins had ruled over the Narrows, her reign rivaling that of Carmine Falcone himself. She had made the Narrows strong, there was food, money, they’d been brought together and endured their hardships as a family. It was all thanks to her, and she was loved for it, up until the very end.

When it came down to it, it had been a car crash that got her, and an honest one at that. Ed had checked and double checked every inch if that car, had his spies find out what they could about the driver responsible, but there was nothing. There was no setup, no assassination plot. It was real, everyday car crash, the kind of thing that could happen to anyone, but this wasn’t just anyone.

The week following the crash was rough. The city itself had been at the height of one of its calmer periods, a rare occurrence but not unwelcomed… and then the accident happened, and the underworld rocked harder than an earthquake. There were riots, a few fights between the bosses, but no one had dared step forward to stake their claim over the now exposed turf. The wounds were still too raw, no one wanted to risk the uproar.

The man driving the other car survived the crash, although that didn’t last long, obviously. Killing the Narrows’ beloved queen came with heavy consequences. It didn’t matter if it was a accident, someone had to pay. There wasn’t any order given, it was an unspoken fact that hummed throughout the streets. A survivor with a seemingly high chance of making it through was found bloodied and broken by the next morning, and that was that.

By the second week, they’d buried her at the Gotham cemetery, her body laid down next to the grave of Mario Calvi. The burial itself had been a small affair, consisting of a few familiar faces from the GCPD. Ed didn’t attend, not really, he watched from distance as they lowered her down. It was the last time she would see the world and he couldn’t even be there for her, too many faces from his past he couldn’t bear to see.

Among the small crowd was Jim Gordon, squeezing his daughter’s hand in his own. His face had been one of deep regret, forever wishing that he could go back and make everything right between himself and her. Ed couldn’t even pity him for it, he’d had his many chances and wasted all of them. It was always known between him and Lee that the moment Jim was ready to take her as she was, she would return to him, but that never happened. He would never see her for who she really was, forever stuck in that dream of what she could have been. Such a shame.

Then the next week came, and then the next, and still no claim was made. The streets were starting to murmur of what would happen next. Would Edward Nygma be the next boss? Would he follow in the Doc’s glory or become a tyrant? Would this mark the day the Riddler made his return to the underworld for one last hurrah?

The answer to all was no, because the truth was that Ed was tired of it.

Caring for the scum that crawled along the streets and tending to their unending tribulations was beyond his capabilities. He never understood why she did it, how she could stand to be around these pathetic cretins, himself included.

During that first, Hellish week, he’d gotten his own taste of being the boss. He’d wept, he’d hidden himself away, he’d lashed out at every pitiful soul coming to him with their idiotic problems. They didn’t care for his suffering, they just wanted him to get over it and move on, just like they had.

He’s run out of anger, and now he was exhausted.

Why not give Penguin the Narrows? He’s lasted in this city just as long as she had. He couldn’t replace her, but who could? He was as good of a candidate as they could get. Will the people be mad? Definitely, but he doesn’t care. With Lee dead, he’s done with them.

Let them be mad, let them rot.

 

**.**

**.**

 

He’s heard many stories about the Iceberg Lounge, but he’s never found the time to visit it himself. It’s not like he’d be a welcomed guest, afterall he’d once made a name for himself by playing it’s illustrious owner as a fool.

He feels tense as soon as he walks through the club’s double doors. The room sends chills down his spine, and it’s not just the temperature. The light blue lights and sleek design makes everything feel dead, the icy sculptures cold and lifeless. How could people want to meet up at a place like this? Then again, looking around the room he sees the company isn’t exactly the lively sort. They’re all members of Gotham’s frigid elite, casting quick judgmental glances and hiding their snide remarks under their breath.

He passes through the crowd, heading straight for the bar.

“I’m here to see your boss, he’s expecting me,” he tells one of the barmaids. She regards him with the same cool composure as everyone else. He wonders if she even knows who he is, she might be too young to know of his infamy.

“This way,” she says, guiding him towards the back of the club.

She takes him to the club’s back office, leaving him to enter without any introduction. When he walks through the door, he finds the heat has been cranked up, a pleasant relief from the stifling cold. The Penguin sits at his desk, reading through some reports. When he looks up from his work, his eyes widen as they find Ed.

“You’re here,” he says, surprised. His mouth stretches into a wide smile. “I was starting to worry you might have forgotten. I’m glad you decided to come. What do you think of the place?”

“I’m not a huge fan of the cold,” Ed replies bluntly.

Penguin shrugs. “It’s not for everyone. It does come in handy on summer days.” He picks up the phone on his desk. “Let me make a call to my chefs, I’ll have them prepare us dinner while we work.”

Ed takes the seat across from him. “I wouldn’t bother, this won’t take long.”

For a moment, Penguin looks like he wants to protest, but ultimately decides against it. “Alright,” he concedes, and places the phone down.

Ed pulls out the stack of documents from his case. He takes the first one off the top and places it before Penguin.

“This is the deed to Cherry’s Place, you’ll find all the files you need in the office there.” He slides the lager packet over. ”...And these cover the deeds to the other small clubs in the Narrows.”

“Getting straight to the point I see. There isn’t anything you want to discuss first?”

Ed shakes his head. “You’re more than capable of running the Narrows, as long as you don’t plan on making loyal subjects out of them.”

“I’ve never had that kind of thing before,” Penguin replies bitterly. “I can’t imagine starting now.”

Ed watches quietly as Penguin scours over the deeds, signing wherever it’s needed. He’s nearing the end of the pile when he suddenly freezes.

“Is there a problem?”

Penguin glances up at him, confused. “You’re giving me the Riddle Factory?”

“It’s not one of the more popular clubs in the area, but a lot of gangs use it to hold their meetings after hours. The pay usually makes up for any loss of income.”

“...But it’s _yours_.”

Ed offers a small smile. “No, that club belongs to someone that no longer exists. It‘s just another piece of the Narrows now.”

Penguin stares at him for a moment. “You really are retired…,” he mutters, before returning to the document and signing his signature.

A few minutes later, and the pile has been finished. They stand and the two shake hands.

“Congratulations Penguin, you officially run the Narrows. I wish you the best of luck in staking your claim.”

“Thank you again for speaking with me. We’ll have to meet again, have a proper sit down next time.“

“That isn’t necessary,” Ed says, but Penguin holds up his hand.

“I insist. This means more to me than you know. Besides, I’ve been dying to ask you about that scheme of yours for ten years now.”

Ed’s eyebrow quirks. “If I recall correctly, you were with the Joker at that time. Why don’t you ask him about it?”

Penguin scoffs. “Please, the Joker is brilliant, but everyone knows he’s not the kind of guy to come up with a plan of that complexity. I’d much rather hear it from the mouth of the man responsible."

That small amount of pride he's been missing wells in his chest. How could he resist?

“Alright, we’ll have dinner,” Ed agrees.

The Penguin gives him an address for them to meet up the next night. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he says with a wide smile.

“Same here,” Ed says, returning it with a smile of his own.

 

**.**

**.**

 

The next night, Ed arrives at the club, a small place just a few blocks away from the theater. The neons have been turned off and there’s no line of people waiting to get in. He fears he must have gotten the address wrong when suddenly the door opens wide and a figure pulls him in.

Under the hallway’s dim lighting, he realizes he’s standing with the Penguin’s infamous lead henchman. He takes Ed’s hat and coat and throws them to the side. Still grabbing onto his arm, he guides Ed to the club’s main room, where Penguin is sitting at the center table. He takes Ed to the table and roughy pushes him into the seat.

“ _Martin_ ,” Penguin scolds from his own seat across from Ed’s. He gestures to the back room, towards which the man stalks off, stoic as ever. “I apologize for him, he can be a bit overprotective,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“He should be, that’s his job isn’t it?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t need to be such a brute about it,” he says, shooting a glare at Martin, who gives a small smirk in return before disappearing into the kitchen.

He gets a better look at the small lounge. It seems they’re the only two customers for the night, the building void of any noise aside from the classical music playing lightly over the speakers and the occasional clatter from the kitchen. The room is lit with dim sconces that line the walls, the only other lights shine against the royal blue curtains framing the stage at the front of the room. Looking at the menu, the food is gourmet and highly priced. He knows Penguin is trying to treat him, but it’s all too much.

“It’s not very active tonight,” Ed remarks looking over the empty tables.

“It never was,” Penguin chuckles,”...but I’ve had the managers close early for the night.”

“You did?”

“Of course, I own the place.” He glances around the room, eyes lost in fond memories. “This was the first club I ever ran. It was given to me by Don Falcone after I helped him take down Fish Mooney.”

“Is that so,” Ed says, but he’s only half listening to the other man, uncomfortable with the atmosphere. The emptiness makes the whole place feel eerie, and darkness doesn’t help.

“I decided to buy it back a few years ago. As I’ve gotten older, seeing just how much the city’s changed, I’ve started feeling sentimental. It’s always good to see that, after everything, there’s still something left of the old days.”

Ed supposes that he should be feeling charmed by Penguin’s nostalgia, but he doesn’t. If anything, it puts him even further on edge. It too personal for a simple dinner, and then there’s everything else about this place. The soft music, the dimmed lights. It’s all so...intimate.

“What are we doing here?”

Penguin tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? We’re having dinner.”

“Yes, but why this place, why does it need to be empty?”

The Penguin doesn’t answer him, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes shift, face is painted with guilt.

Ed gives him a hard look. “Is this supposed to be a date?”

Penguin shifts in his seat. “Of sorts,” he admits.

There’s a pregnant pause, the only sound coming from the music still emanating throughout the room as the two men stare at one another.

“Mr. Penguin…”

“Oswald.” Penguin looks at him with pleading eyes. “Please, call me Oswald.”

Ed lips press into a thin line. “You and the Doc ran the crime scene for nearly the same number of years. You said before that the two of you were close…”

“That’s true, we knew each other very well.”

“If that were the case, then I would assume you’d know about our relationship.”

Penguin swallows, not breaking his gaze. “I’m aware, yes.”

Ed falls back into his seat, stunned by the audacity. He could handle a crime boss that wanted to take control of unclaimed land, business was business after all, but when it came to matters of the heart, this was too much. He’d hoped that maybe Penguin just hadn’t known, an honest mistake, but there’s no excuse for such disregard.

“Lee and I were together for two decades,” he seethes,”...and you think I can just move on from that after a few weeks of grieving and a nice dinner?”

Penguin doesn’t have anything to say in response. His face remains impassive. There’s no shock, no shame, not even disappointment.

Ed huffs. “I’m leaving,” he says, standing from his seat.

“I understand,” Penguin mutters, his voice low and watery. It takes only a few seconds before it finally reaches his face, the emotion that had been absent before now clear as day.

Seeing the look of utter despair on Penguin’s face ebbs away at his irritation, and he reluctantly lets it go. He’s too tired to be angry anymore.

Ed sighs. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.” He turns back toward the exit and walks away. He’s nearly made it to the front door when he hears the shuffling of footsteps behind him.

“Before you go, just hear me out,” Penguin says. Ed stops in his tracks, listening patiently. “I admit that I’ve been uncouth about this, but I just couldn’t help myself. One cannot deny how they truly feel to themselves.”

Ed turns around to look at the man standing before him. The look in his eyes is so desperate.

“I know I should have told you earlier, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed to come if i did.”

“You’re right, would have saved yourself the trouble,” Ed says.

“I don’t expect you to to return my affections. I enjoy your company, regardless of whether the feeling is mutual,” he explains. “I want you to be in my life, if not as a partner, at least as a friend. I accept that you may never come to feel the same for me I feel for you, but I can always hope.”

Ed considers the offer. It’s not like he’s overloaded with friends these days, especially now that he’s stepping away from the Narrows. A little company wouldn’t hurt.

“I can’t make any promises.”

“I only ask for one, don’t give up on me now, please,” Penguin says, staring intensely at Ed. “Give me another chance.”

His pleas sound genuine to Ed’s ears, but does he deserve it? His plan at seducing Ed so soon after Lee’s death had been insensitive and stupid...but at least he recognized that and tried to make amends. At least he was _trying_.

He can give him another chance.

“Fine,” he replies softly. “We can be friends.”

Penguin releases a breath. “Thank you,” he says, relieved. “Next time we meet, I’ll keep it casual, I swear. You won’t regret this.”

“I hope you’re right.” Ed retrieves his coat and places the bowler back on his head. He pushes the door open and stands at the entrance, Penguin following close behind.

He gives Ed a small wave. “Goodnight, Ed.”

“Goodnight, Oswald,” he replies as he turns around and walks down the street.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up now folks, you're in for an emotional roller coaster.


	2. Priceless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m really liking how this fic is coming along, so I’m going to be focusing on this one for awhile. (If any of you are reading Reformation, don’t worry, I’ll be getting back to that one soon)

 

 

In the months that follow their first introduction, Oswald had made good on keeping things casual between them. Most of the time they’re together, it’s because Oswald needs his advice. As Ed had suspected, the Narrows hadn’t taken kindly to their new boss, and there were times that he required Ed’s expertise. He’ll stop by the Lounge, explain the context, help him sort out the problem, and then they’re done for the day. Maybe he’ll stay around longer and they’ll have little chats, but Oswald doesn’t ask anything more from him. Just like he’d promised.

What surprises him the most is how different the man is from what he’s been told. Lee had never mentioned any dealings she had between Oswald and herself, but he’d overheard things in the past, and everyone who was anyone in this town had a reputation. Everyone knew the Penguin was a conceited, possessive brat that couldn’t hold his anger back, but Oswald wasn’t anything like that.

Whenever they had the free time, Oswald focused all of his attentions onto Ed. He listened to Ed when he went on about something that had caught his interest that day, even cracked a smile at some of the more humorous tidbits he had to offer.

There were, of course, times when the situation is more stressful than normal and Oswald would lose his patience, but it’s nothing like that uncontrollable temper he’d heard so much about. He was quite generous too, always offering to take Ed out to or expensive dinners, not making a fuss when he declined.

Ed has to admit it, their meetings are not as unpleasant as he’d anticipated.

One afternoon, Oswald asks him to join him outside of his office. It isn’t anything special, just a simple stroll through the streets of Gotham. The fresh air is a pleasant surprise, escpecially since he’s trying to stave off what he suspects is an oncoming cold.

“I didn’t expect you to invite me out to take a walk with you,” Ed says. “Doesn’t it hurt your leg?”

“Not as much as it used to. I wouldn’t let a little limp deprive me of an afternoon walk with a friend,” he says. Ed smiles at the sentiment.

“Still, I wouldn’t have taken you for the athletic sort.”

Oswald snorts. “I might have gotten a little top heavy at my age, but that doesn’t mean I’m lazy. I’ve found boxing has really helped me keep in shape.”

Ed gives him a look. “You know how to box, really?”

“Not well, just enough to get away from a fight in one piece. In the old days, I used to let one of my men take care of that for me, but after a certain caped crusader showed up, I decided it’d do me some good to learn how to defend myself.“

Ed nods. “Good thinking.”

“I can give you a few pointers if you’d like.”

“It’s kind of you to offer, but given my criminal days have long past, I doubt I’ll need it. Besides, boxing probably wouldn’t suit me, I don’t have the best control of my arm.”

The smile drops from Oswald’s face. “That’s right, I’d forgotten,” he swallows,“...that incident with Grundy…”

“It could have been worse, at least he didn’t tear it off completely.”

“Still, the whole thing must have been terrible for you.”

Ed waves him off. “Honestly, I don’t remember any of it. I think I probably blacked out from the pain.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Oswald says, though his voice is tense.

They continue the rest of their walk, most of it filled with quiet, but with the occasional light conversation to pass the time. By the time they’ve stopped, the afternoon has passed into the evening.

“The Lounge will be opening soon, I should start heading back. Thanks for joining me.”

“Don’t mention it, I had a nice time,” Ed says. “I look forward to doing this again.”

Oswald’s chest puff up in excitement. “In that case, I have something to ask you. I have tickets to see the Magic Flute at the theater next weekend and I wanted to know if you’d care to join me.”

“I would love to. How did you know I liked opera?”

“How wouldn’t I, someone of your theatrical tastes must be a fan,” he replies, but the tone of his voice is off.

“...But that’s not the only way you know, is it,” Ed asks, quirking a brow.

“No, it’s not,” Oswald sighs. “I confess, I remembered Lee mentioning it to me once.”

“Why were you talking about me?”

“It was just passing conversation. Sometimes when I wasn’t so busy, I’d stop by and we’d catch up. I have a habit of picking up on little pieces of information. Most of it is useless, but it comes in handy every once in awhile.”

“You two were really that close?”

“Yes, she was one of my greatest allies. When the times got tough, we were always there to rely on each other.” He smiles fondly, thinking back on her memory. ”I’ll never forget everything she did for me.” He frowns when he sees the wariness on Ed’s face. “What is it?”

“It’s just,” Ed pauses, his brows furrowed. “...she never mentioned you two being friends. From what I heard, you were a nuisance at best.”

Oswald chuckles at that. “I doubt she would want word getting out that we only pretended to dislike each other. As you said, the people hated me at the time, and they’ll always need someone they can hate.” He gives Ed a wry smile. “Half the job of running the underworld is networking, no one really hates each other. We each had things that we couldn’t achieve on our own, and every once in awhile, we’d ask each other for favors. It’s how you run a business.”

“That makes sense,” Ed replies, trying to wrap his head around the idea. “I can’t believe she never told me.”

“There were a lot of things Lee probably didn’t tell you,” Oswald mutters under his breath.

Before Ed can ask, he hobbles back down the street, leaving him alone with his thoughts. What he’s learned in the last few minutes unsettles him. Everyone’s entitled to their secrets, but him and Lee had made a point to speak plainly with one another. For her to go as far and say that she and Oswald weren’t on good terms...

Why would she lie to him like that?

 

**.**

**.**

 

This time, Ed agrees to Oswald’s offer to meet up for dinner before the show starts. He arrives at a place called Szabo’s, a smaller, family style restaurant that serves Eastern European cuisine.

“Is this another one of your restaurants,” Ed asks once they’ve been seated.

“Absolutely not,” Oswald says in disgust. “Sofia Falcone brought me here once when she was trying to play me for a fool. She even went so far as to have the chef recreate my mother’s goulash. A thing like that is sacred. I haven’t come back since that day.”

“If you hate it so much, why are we here?”

“The last time I ate at this place, I had the chicken paprikash, the seasoning of which was abominably overwhelming,“ he explains. “Since then, Martin has directed me to a website for restaurant ratings, on which I’ve posted a less than favorable review. I’m curious to see if if they’ve taken my advice.”

“I hope they’ve learned to meet your high standards,” Ed smiles, looking over the menu. “I’ve heard tonight’s showing has been sold out for months.”

“Yes, I had to threaten the establishment just to get our seats, and they aren’t even in one of the boxes,” he huffs. “I swear, some people just have no respect for authority these days.”

“You’re spoiling me, Oswald. You don’t have to do all of this, I have my own money.”

“...But I want to.”

Ed regards the admission to himself. “Still, I wouldn’t want your other companions to grow jealous of me.”

“I find myself quite short on those, these days” he replies bitterly.

“What about Martin,” Ed suggests, but Oswald shakes his head.

“I have no idea what’s been going on with that boy lately. I thought moodiness was something teenagers grew out of when they became adults, not into.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about being moody,” Ed says with a cheeky smile.

“It’s not like you’re one to talk, you drama king,” Oswald points out.

“Maybe not, but I’m not the one still dying my hair purple when I’m well into my fifties, am I?”

“There’s no age limit on good taste,” Oswald counters.

They continue their conversation up until their food arrives. Luckily, this time around, Oswald’s chicken arrives with a suitable amount of paprika. They’ve almost finished their dinner when another thought occurs to Ed.

“Wasn’t there a girl that used to hang around your club?” Oswald stills, gently placing his fork back onto the plate. “I think someone said she was with you when it first opened. She a friend of yours, isn’t she?”

“I assume you’re referring to Ivy.”

“That was Poison Ivy?” Oswald nods. “But she looked so much different.”

“Yeah, she made a habit of that.” Oswald rolls his eyes. “...And I don’t know if I’d say we were friends. We haven’t kept in touch,” he says, the tone of his voice sour.

“I haven’t heard anything from her recently,” Ed muses. “I wonder what she’s been planning, it must be big.”

“You don’t know?” Ed cocks his head. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” Oswald says with a smirk.

“What is it?”

“She left town a few years ago...with Harley Quinn.”

Ed’s mouth drops open. “Really...”

Oswald nods. “It was quite the shock for everyone.”

“I imagine it was. How did Joker take it, was he surprised?”

“Of course not, nothing fazes that man. I doubt he even realizes she’s gone.”

Ed chuckles at that. “That’s probably true.”

Oswald sighs. “So many of the original Rogues have left, this city’s going soft.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Ed shrugs,“...but the quiet never lasts in Gotham. Someone’s bound to unleash some kind of Hell soon enough.”

“Someone like you,” Oswald asks with a knowing smile. “C’mon Ed, haven’t you ever thought about making one last comeback?”

Ed offers him a small smile. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but like I’ve said, those days are behind me.”

“That’s a shame,” Oswald tuts. “This city could use your brilliant mind after all these years.”

Ed’s heartbeat speeds up at the praise, he turns his gaze back down to his food.

“I like being retired. Maybe you should consider it yourself.”

Oswald scoffs. “I’m nowhere near close to that my friend. I have a kingdom to maintain, and I’ve still got one last leg to stand on.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

 

 

 

Ed doesn’t remember the last time he’d attended the theater. Being in public in general is something he’s learned to avoid as a criminal in hiding. The sight of not one, but two of Gotham’s most well known adversaries earns them a few double-takes and hushed whispers from the other attendees, but no one dares to interrupt their evening.

Despite not having the most expensive seats, the view they get of the stage is perfect. The acoustics carry beautifully throughout the room, the melodies thrumming into his ears in just the right pitch. Every now and again, he shifts his gaze over to Oswald and has to hold back his laughter at the sight of him leaning into his fist looking so utterly bored by it all.

When the show is over, Oswald gives him a ride back to his apartment.

“Did you enjoy yourself,” Ed asks.

“Hm? Oh yes, it was great.”

Ed smiles at him knowingly. “You don’t have to lie to me, Oswald. I know opera isn’t for everyone.”

“I’ll admit, I hadn’t realized that it was going to be so long...and in German.”

“Well, at least now you know for future reference,” Ed chuckles. “Though, I’m curious as to why you bought the tickets in the first place.”

Oswald stares at him, face blank. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Yes it is, very much so, but Ed wants to hear him say it out loud.

“I bought them because I knew you’d like it.”

Ed releases a small sigh. Hearing the words makes him feel lightheaded and warm.

“It was a lovely thought. Thank you.”

They fall into a heavy silence, staring back at one another through half-lidded eyes.

Their gaze breaks when the driver opens Ed’s door, Ed jumping slightly at the unexpected sound. He hadn’t realized that they’d pulled up to the outside of his building already.

He takes one last glance over at Oswald, and then reluctantly steps out of the car. He makes it to the steps outside when Oswald rolls down his window.

“I’ll see you again soon,” he asks from the car.

“Yes, I hope we will,” Ed replies. “You’re a good friend, Oswald.”

“Thank you, Ed, that means more to me than you know.”

 

**.**

**.**

 

He doesn’t notice the time passing by anymore. He spends his days reading about whatever has caught his attention at that moment or working on some piece of mechanical equipment, maybe he’ll turn the television on and watch a game show if he’s feeling up for it. It can be a bit dull at times, but at least he’s starting to move on. He isn’t immediately filled with sorrow when he finds himself thinking back on Lee, it’s more of a fondness at her memory, though it’s still forever tinged with sadness.

The only thing he has that add any kind of flavor to his days are his outings with Oswald. They’ve moved past idle conversation after meetings and started to see one another regularly, catching up on whatever mundane gossip is floating around and reminiscing over past ventures.

It’s not much, but it’s just what he needed, a pleasant distraction from everything else.

“ _Why don’t you stop by my house tonight_ ,” Oswald asks him over the phone one day. “ _I’ve hired a new cook and I want to test his capabilities._ ”

Ed considers the invitation quietly. Oswald has invited him for dinner a countless number of times by now, and he’s declined nearly all of them...

“ _Ed?_ ”

“Alright,” he finally answers. “When do you want me?”

“ _You’re coming...great! I’ll have my driver come by and pick you up around six._ ”

“That sounds good, I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

“ _Actually, I already have one picked out_ ,” Oswald replies quikly.

“Oh...Well, I need to bring _something_ ,” Ed insists. “How does crème brulée sound? I haven’t had an excuse to make it in years.”

“ _That sounds fantastic, Lee always raved over your cooking. I can’t wait to try it out for myself. I’ll see you tonight._ ”

In the hour before he leaves, he prepares the cream dishes. As they bake in the oven, he considers the contents of his closet. He pulls out the first jacket that draws his attention, a muted olive that shifts into an emerald green when the light hits it. A gift to him from Lee, he remembers.

Part of him tells him not to wear it, it feels wrong wearing this gift from her for something like this, but the more rational part of his brain tells him to stop being silly. It’s just a jacket, after all. He might as well make himself look nice for tonight.

The driver picks him up right on time, and within minutes, he’s standing in front of the mansion’s door. He only has to knock once when Oswald swings it open.

“I’m so glad you came,” he says, though his voice is strained. Beneath the forced veneer of elation, he looks stressed.

He holds up the dishes. “I brought the crème brulée.”

“Yes, you did. Great,” he remarks tersely. “More food.”

Ed walks through foyer, looking around the room. The styling of the room looks as old as the house itself, exceedingly gaudy and vintage. He likes it.

“I brought an extra one in case Martin wants to have it later. They still need to cool down for a couple hours, if you show me the fridge I can put...them...away…”

Walking into the dining room, he finds the table covered with platters of food. The dishes range from appetizers to cakes to a full roast, some prepared with meat that he can’t even identify at first glance. He would of thought Oswald was throwing a party if hadn’t known better.

“That’s a lot of food,” he says, eyes wide.

“It is, isn’t it,” Oswald scowls. “I told him to prepare a feast for us, he took it more literally than I anticipated.”

Ed looks around the table, searching for any exposed space and finding none.

“Where are we supposed to eat?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that I’m firing that idiot first thing tomorrow.”

Ed rubs his finger along one of the plates, picking up some of the sauce and sticking it in his mouth.

“Ooh, actually, you should keep him around. The man’s got talent.” He looks around until his eyes settle on the fire burning in the living room. “We could eat on the couch,” he suggests.

Oswald sighs. “Okay, I guess we’re having a buffet tonight.” Obviously this night isn’t starting off the way he’d planned, but it seems he’s taking it in stride.

They pile the food onto their plates and take it to the couch. It starts much the same as their other conversations, but as the night goes on, all tension breaks away. They discuss the schemes of days gone by and laugh over past tribulations that are now humorous in hindsight, calm and relaxed in the warm light of the fire.

“You’re right, I’m keeping him,” Oswald says picking off the last piece of filet from his plate.

“I hope you’re not too full, we still have dessert left.”

“Ed, if I were bursting at the seams, I’d still eat anything you made.”

He retrieves the cooled cups from the fridge and places them on the coffee table, sprinkling each of them with a fine layer of sugar. He takes a lighter, browning the sugar into a thin crust over the top. He passes one of the cups to Oswald, who readily takes it from him. His spoon cracks through the golden surface and scoops out a nice sized bite of the cream that he eagerly shoves into his mouth.

“How is it?”

“Heavenly,” Oswald replies between bites. Ed smiles at the compliment. They’ve both dusted their dessert when Oswald speaks again.

“Thank you for coming tonight. There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you for a while now, and I wanted it to between the two of us.” He takes the empty bowl from Ed’s hand and places it back on the table next to his own. “At our age, we have to start thinking about who we really are. We’re living the final half of our lives, anything that happens now can define how people see us for the rest of eternity.”

“What are you saying?”

Oswald settles back into his seat, his face serious.

“A man comes to a crossroads in his life, and he has to make a choice. Does he choose safety and cowardice or does he opt for courage and risk everything?”

Ed ponders the question. “It’s not necessarily one or the other.”

“...What?”

“You’re suggesting that a person is courageous when they step outside of their comfort zone and and take risks. That’s true for some people, but that’s only one scenario,” Ed explains. “For example, if we’re talking about someone that chooses to take risks to stoke their pride, then maybe it’s more courageous for them to back away and accept that they aren’t immortal.”

“That’s...not where I was going with that,” Oswald says, deflating a little.

“Sorry,” Ed tilts his head away. “I’m not sure what it is you wanted.”

At that, Oswald’s gaze softens ever so slightly. “What I want for you is something I cannot buy with all the money I have.”

Ed scoffs. “We’ve talked about this, you know I don’t-”

“It can’t be bought.”

Ed stills at those words, cocking his head to the side. He hasn’t noticed how close the two of them are sitting to one another, Oswald staring at him with a restrained intensity.

“...But it can be stolen with one glance,” he continues. “Worthless to one, but priceless to two.”

A soft smile quirks at the corners of Ed’s lips. “Are you asking me a riddle?”

Oswald leans in closer, mere inches away from his face. “Do you like riddles?”

Ed smiles, before he too leans in, closing the gap between them.

It starts out gently, a simple brushing of their lips and soft tugging, and then Oswald wraps his arms around around Ed’s chest, pushing his mouth open with his tongue and deepening the kiss. His movements are abrupt and needy, a sign of inexperience.

Ed giggles as he pulls away. “Was that your first kiss?”

“Of course not, you ass,” Oswald huffs, his face flushed pink. “It’s just been a while is all.”

“Is that so,” he asks playfully, his hand brushing lightly against Oswald’s chest.

“As a matter of fact,” Oswald says with a devious smile,“...I’ve done plenty of other things too.”

He grabs hold of the back of Ed’s head and pulls him back in, their mouths colliding once again. He falls back onto the sofa, dragging Ed down with him until he’s lying atop of him. His hands fall away from Ed’s face. They drag down against his chest, moving lower and lower until they settle at Ed’s waist, unbuckling and pulling the belt lose from his pants.

With the belt gone, he brings one of his hands up to his mouth, coating his fingers in saliva before he reaches back down. Ed releases a low gasp when feels that warm hand reaching through the fabric and taking hold of him. His mouth moves away from Oswald’s, peppering his jaw and neck with kisses as he too moves his hands lower and unbuttons the other man’s slacks, returning the favor with his own hand.

The minutes pass by, each of them moaning in near tandem at the wet sensation of skin against skin. The pressure builds steadily in Ed’s abdomen, pushed further by the vision of fervor painted across Oswald’s face. It isn’t much longer before Oswald’s breath hitches and he releases with one final groan, Ed following him with his own orgasm soon after and collapsing onto his chest.

They lay there quietly in the aftermath of their ecstasy, the room filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing mixed in with crackling of the fire.

Ed’s become well acquainted with the steady rise and fall of Oswald’s chest when he feels his breath shudder. He turns his gaze upward to him to find him smiling, but his eyes are glassy against the light.

“You okay,” Ed asks, planting a small kiss to the exposed skin above his collar.

Oswald shakes his head. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Ed.”

Ed smiles into the crook of his neck. “Yes, you’ve been very patient with me.”

“No,” Oswald murmurs under his breath. “You have no idea...”

He doesn’t give any further explanation, and Ed doesn’t ask. He rests his head back down against Oswald’s chest.

“Well, I hope it was worth the wait,” he whispers, letting his eyes fall shut.

Oswald doesn’t reply, his mind lost in thought until, finally, his eyes close as well.

 

 


	3. Little Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long expository chapter ahoy.
> 
> I ended up using a lot more canon dialogue than I would have liked. I tried cutting most of it down, but it can’t be helped. Oh well :/

 

 

**22 years earlier...**

 

If you asked Ed why he’d done it, he’d say he did it for her. He wouldn’t mention all of the little things that happened along the way, things that cut just a bit too deep in just the right places.

 

 

_“So you admit you killed Isabella?”_

_“Fine. Is that what you want? Yes! I confess, I had her killed, but guess what? You should thank me, because we both know what would have happened if I hadn't!”_

_“Yes, I could have lived a life with the woman I loved. I could have been happy.”_ _  
_

_“No, Ed. You would have killed her, just like you did the other one! You couldn't have helped it! ...And afterward, you would have hated yourself!”_

_“Well, we'll never know, will we?”_

_“...I did it for love.”_

_“What?!”_

_“I did it because I love you. You should know that...”_

_“Shut up!”_

 

 

Oswald’s words are lodged deep into his brain.

He’d wanted so badly for Barbara to be wrong, for Oswald to give him some explanation that solved everything and removed all of his suspicion...But he hadn’t, and what he got instead had been so much worse than anticipated.

Every time he’d told Ed that he believed in him, that he wasn’t the monster everyone thought he was, it had all been a lie. He wasn’t any different from the rest of them. He only saw Ed as a murderer, insane, a freak. He never thought Ed could be trusted to follow his own heart. He killed Isabella to protect Ed...Because he _loved_ him. What a joke.

What thanks had he gotten from Oswald after housing him and nursing back to health, after he’d been near dead in those woods? How long had he waited in Arkham, only to be let out once Oswald had found some sort of use for him? How ready was Oswald to turn his back on his only friend, at the mere suggestion that he hadn’t done his bidding?

Oswald had never cared before, and now in the face of Ed’s wrath, he claims to love him, that it was for his own good that Isabella was dead, that her death was his fault. The thought of it all makes him sick.

He considers taking out his phone and calling the guard back, telling him not to check the warehouse, let that bastard dissolve away into nothing, but he holds off. Oswald will be here soon enough, and then the truth will be revealed for all to hear.

He stands unseen in the shadows when Butch and Tabitha return with Oswald in tow. He waits patiently as Barbara states her proposition.

“Give up Nygma, save your own ass. Live to love another day, m’kay?”

There’s a moment of silence as Oswald considers the offer.

“...Wow.”

“What’s going on? You’ve got a weird look on your face, like weirder than normal.”

“You’re right. I should want him dead.”

_Should?_

“Should? Oswald, you loved him, and he betrayed you.”

“Actually I don’t know that I did...love him, not really. Ed was right, I thought I loved him, because he saw me as no one else had since my mother...But I killed Isabelle.”

“I’m pretty sure her name was Isabella, but go on.”

“...Because I wouldn’t share him. Ed said love is sacrifice, I should have been able to sacrifice my happiness for his. I couldn’t...But I’m ready now. I won’t call Ed! I won’t let you hurt him!”

“So you’d rather die than give up the man who tried to kill you?”

“I would! Isn’t that crazy?”

This isn’t supposed to be happening. Ed had taken everything Oswald worked for and destroyed it in a matter of days. He should be chomping at the bit to hand him over, not resisting. It’s not logical.

_Love isn’t logical._

“Yes. It is.” Ed finally steps out from the shadows. Oswald’s jaw drops at the sight of him.

“Guess you’re not as smart as you thought you were,” Barbara says, giving him a pointed look. “He didn’t give you up after all.”

Oswald looks between them, realization catching up. “You’re in this together...But why?”

“...Because I didn’t want to just take what you had, I wanted to take what you believed. I wanted you to die knowing that you were incapable of loving another person.”

“...But I can. I just proved that, right?” Oswald up looks at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Does that mean I passed. Ed?”

“I…don’t know what it means.”

He mulls over his thoughts, trying to find some loophole in his own words that gives him the right to kill this man, but he finds none of it. Oswald had sacrificed himself, so he couldn’t deny that there must be at least some truth in his claim. Still, he couldn’t be sure of it, stuck between his morals and his own sense. He needs something else, something to prove to him that Oswald honestly cares for him.

_I can change. The fact that I love you proves that I can change. Just give me a chance._

Fine. One last chance.

He drags Oswald down to his car and throws him into the trunk, not wanting to risk to inevitable groveling he’d give in exchange for his life. Ed needs the silence, he needs to think. He spends most of his time driving through the streets of Gotham, no destination in mind, trying to figure out the next steps of this impromptu judgement.

This would be must easier if he could just figure out what it was he was looking for. There’s something he’s missing, but he just doesn’t know.

He’ll have to wait and see, maybe Oswald will surprise him again.

He eventually settles on the docks, he’ll draw less attention given it’s secondary purpose as the mob’s killing ground. He pulls up just before the sun rises and drags Oswald down to the end of the pier, keeping his gun aimed at the man’s chest.

“Ed, I love you. I know you believe that now, so you need to listen to me when I tell you by doing this it will change you.”

“I've killed before, Oswald.”

“Not like this. This won't be a crime of passion or self preservation, this will be the cold-blooded murder of someone you love.”

Ed seethes at his words. To even think that he’s done anything to earn such a thing.

“I _don't_ love you,” he says through grit teeth.

Oswald tries to reach out to him, but Ed slaps his hand away. At the impact, Oswald returns to his usual, petulant self.

“You need me, Edward Nygma, just as I need you. You cannot have one without the other.”

“...You killed Isabella.”

“The point is-”

“That is the point! You can't talk your way out of this, Oswald. I have wanted you to suffer as I've suffered. You killed her, so you die.”

He has the gun pointed at Oswald’s chest. There’s nothing left for him to hide, only his final, parting words to reveal all.

And then...

“When I met you, you were a nervous, jittery loser! You were nothing!”

His heart stops in his chest.

“I created Edward Nygma, and I am the only one in the world who truly sees you as you are. Who you can still become...”

So that’s all he has left, just one last opportunity to shoot him down. He doesn’t know why he expected any different.

“You can’t do this.” The mask is back, Oswald’s crying again. “Ed, are you listening to me?”

“I'm listening…”

“Say something,” he wails.

Cold disappointment runs through his veins. All Oswald had ever done was lie to him, and that would never change.

_You won't change, because you can't._

He’s out of chances.

“I loved her, Oswald, and you killed her.”

 

 

 

The next thing he remembers is being back at the mansion, standing in the darkness of the living room.

He’s staring at that damn picture, Oswald staring back at him with that smug grin on his face...And then there’s him in the background, barely visible, an afterthought.

His gaze falls down to his hands, a can of paint held between them. Without thinking, he pulls off the lid and starts spraying as a green question mark appears over the canvas. As he looks over his work, his mouth drops open and he releases a breathy, sinister laugh.

He laughs because there’s nothing else he can do. He’s tired, too tired to be angry anymore. He lets his mind slip off into numbness and gives himself over to his darker thoughts.

 

**.**

**.**

 

The first thought he has when he comes to is that Oswald Cobblepot needs to die. It’s strange thought for him to have, given that he’s already dead, except...no, he isn’t.

The details are fuzzy, he remembers an explosion, his previously unnamed counterpart sporting the title ‘Riddler’, something about a secret society, but none of the pieces quite fit together. Then his mind travels to even stranger places, being trapped in a giant birdcage, Oswald miraculously surviving, and then everything goes cold.

He spends his first few days reading over every article he can find that might help him understand. He learns that Oswald is in fact alive and his new lounge in now the talk of the town. He discovers that he’s been frozen in a block of ice for the past six months, laid out on display as the lounge’s centerpiece, an act of mercy to prevent some kind of brain tumor Oswald had conjured up for publicity.

The thought of all those people staring at him with pity boils his blood. This will not stand.

He takes his time crafting his riddles, it for a special occasion after all, the death of Oswald Cobblepot will make the headlines for sure. They’ll meet at the cemetery, the perfect location for their final showdown to the death.

Once he sends the first riddle out, he waits for Oswald to show up, but by the afternoon, nothing happens. Obviously he just couldn’t figure it out, probably too complex for that bird brain to process.

He sends the second riddle out, this one far easier to comprehend, surely he could figure it out this time. Again, Oswald doesn’t come.

He waits until it’s well into the night before his patience runs out and he finds himself storming through the doors of the lounge.

“Oswald! I waited for you, again, and you didn't show, again.” Looking around the club, there’s no sign of the man. “You coward, where are you?!”

“Here.”

Ed snaps around, aiming his gun at Oswald, who is looking more annoyed than anything else.

“...And I may be many things, but I am not a coward. Your riddles suck. _This place may make some people lie, some people speak, and some people cry?_ That could mean anything! Lying, speaking, crying, you're just describing a range of human behavior.”

“No! I meant lying as in lying d- laying d- lying down! As in dead!”

“Oh…” Oswald rolls his eyes.

“The answer was Stoker Cemetery, clearly. Only an idiot wouldn't see that.”

Oswald doesn’t glower at the insult like he hopes, rather he smiles. “Face it, Ed, you can't make riddles to save your ass anymore. I guess she was right.”

“What? Who was right?”

“Your number one fan. She said that there was something wrong with you,” Oswald chuckles.

What fan? Who is he talking about? He thinks back over the last few days. He remembers waking up in a warm bed, and then he was on the streets. Had there been someone else there?

“Took me a while to believe it, but...,” Oswald laughs,”...you're not smart.”

“I am too smart,” he pouts. “I'm the Riddler.”

“Oh, God, that name again? Tell me, how long did it take you to come up with those riddles?”

“...I don't know.”

“A minute? Two minutes?”

“A few hours,” he admits. “Six hours.”

Oswald’s eyes are wide with dismay. “Six hours?”

“...Yes.”

“For two bad riddles? Does that sound anything like the old you?”

“Well, perhaps I'm still recovering from being frozen in a block of ice,” he yells. “...But revenge will certainly make me feel better.”

Oswald scoffs as he turns away from him. “You'll never have revenge on me.”

“Uh, yeah, I will.”

“Uh, no, you won't.”

Ed points the gun back at his face. “Oswald, I'm gonna shoot you.”

“Yes,” Oswald sighs. “You might shoot me, kill me, but only _he_ can get revenge on me.”

Ed stills at those words, his finger frozen over the trigger.

“The man I froze on that pier. The man who would've killed himself before writing those idiotic riddles. The man whose name I still will not speak...But he's gone,” he chuckles. “You're _just_ Ed Nygma...And not even Ed Nygma, because Ed Nygma would've noticed something.”

“What?”

“Doesn't it feel kind of chilly in here?”

There’s whirring from behind him, and then a cold blast of air knocks the gun out of his hands and sends him down to the floor. He turns around to find Dr. Freeze standing there, gun ready at his side.

“You remember him, my other Victor,” Oswald asks. “I'm going to put you on ice, again.”

“You want the same pose or something else,” Freeze asks him.

Ed stands, holding his arms out. “No wait, please!”

Freeze aims the gun. “Got it, same pose.”

“No!” He stands up from his spot on the ground. “Okay, Oswald,” he sighs. ”I'm not the Riddler.” He glances back over at Freeze. “Do it.”

Freeze only makes it a couple of steps when Oswald stops him.

“Stop, I've changed my mind, I'm not gonna freeze you. I would only be freezing Ed Nygma, who cares about that,” he explains. “No, a better revenge is having you live, knowing that you are not him, and you never will be again. Good-bye, Ed.”

He gives Ed one last look of pity, before he and Freeze walk away, not even bothering to see him out. Why would they, it wasn’t like he was a threat to either of them. Oswald’s right, he’s nothing without the Riddler.

“Who am I?”

 

 

 

Life has been hitting him with many surprises over the last few weeks, the first namely his precipitous loss of intellect. Even before becoming the Riddler, he was never this idiotic. Aside from being absolutely embarrassing, it makes life as a criminal much more difficult. He needs to find a way to reverse whatever’s happening to him before he can’t take it any longer and he loses what little left of his sanity he still holds.

The second surprise comes when he finds Butch Gilzean walking the streets, pale, hulking and using the name Solomon Grundy. He’d read articles saying that Butch had died months ago, and by the look and smell of him, it seems there was some truth to that. He doesn’t know what happened that could have turned him into this zombie, but luckily, whatever happened also took away his memories, so at least he won’t have to worry about getting smashed to pieces any time soon.

The third surprise is finding Lee again, what isn’t a surprise is her anger at him. She isn’t to keen on him staying at Cherry’s Place with Grundy, especially after he threatened to attack her clinic. Still, she reluctantly agrees to help him with his brain troubles, if only to get him off her back. Something inside him knew she would, she’s a doctor, it’s in her nature to help those in need. They’re not friends, but that doesn’t matter. She’s learned to tolerate him, and that’s enough.

Watching the audience roar whenever he introduces Grundy to the ring fills him with life. He has a purpose here, as shallow and fleeting as it may be. He quickly learns about their hatred for the Penguin, and takes pleasure at mocking him before the sea of onlookers.

All in all, life is going fairly well, all things considered. That is until Penguin sends his droogs after him, that day puts a damper on his good luck, but even then, he comes out of it in one piece. At the end of the day, he’s still alive and the Narrows has a new queen in Lee Thompkins.

“I warned you that something like this would happen,” Lee tuts as she tends the bruising on his face from where one of the women had punched him.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think walking around with a beak on my face warranted sending actual assassins after me. That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?” Ed chuckles. “This guy must have the shortest fuse ever.”

“ _This guy_?” Lee casts him an odd glance. “Ed, you know Oswald, you were friends.”

They were, and Oswald had been arguably the worst friend ever, but what does that have to do with...

...And then it clicks, Penguin and Oswald are the same person. Of course they are, how could he forget something like that? This wasn’t the same as forgetting some random woman, this was much more serious.

He tries his best to hide his unease, but Lee catches it immediately.

“Ed...,” she says, her voice low and concerned, as though she’s reading his mind. “How long have you been having problems with your memory?”

He considers laughing at her ridiculous claim, but the truth is obviously plain to see. She stares him down unwavering, and after a moment, he sighs.

“It’s been happening ever since the Riddler first took over,” he confesses. “At first, I figured the lapses were just part of it, I always blackout whenever that happens...But after I was unfrozen, I started getting them more.”

“You should have told me that earlier,” Lee huffs. “Do you think it’s another side effect of the freezing, or was it something else?”

“I don’t know, Lee, but I think it’s only going to keep getting worse. I know that you don’t like me, but I don’t have anywhere else to turn. I’m begging you, please help me.”

She considers his plea. There's no way to know if she'll be able to help, but she's the best option he has, and she knows that. It'll be a challenge, but she's never been one to turn down a challenge. It's what he always liked about her.

“I’ll do what I can.”

 

 

 

Despite the fact that he once liked to think himself as a wordsmith, he’ll never understand how a few simple words can change everything, for better or worse.

 

  
_“You lied to me. Why?”_

_“...Because I was afraid that if I told you the truth, you would go back to being who you were before, the Riddler...And I like who you've become.”_

_“...Who's that?”_

_“Ed Nygma. The Ed that you were before. My friend.”_

 

 

Despite everything that’s happened between them, everything he’s done to her, Lee still sees the person that exists without the Riddler. Lee likes _him_ , Ed Nygma, weird, dumb Ed. Amidst the lightness in his chest and the warmth radiating through his body, he realizes that he likes who she’s become too.

No sooner than the realization hits, the Riddler returns to him with his usual antics. He tries with some success to ignore his taunting jibes, but finds himself at the mercy of his other half the moment he lets his guard down. He’s already managed to take control of his body once more, using him to send an assassin out for Lee’s head while he sleeps.

He regrets visiting Oswald, it’d been a stupid idea, and no amount of gloating seems to justify facing that man again. Afterwards, Oswald had sent him a letter asking for forgiveness, another thorn for him to pull from his skin. As if he could ever forgive...whatever it is he’d done.

Somehow, that visit had made the Riddler even more active than before. He’d transcended his usual realm of mirrors and stepped into Ed’s space. None of the pills he’d confiscated from the office have done any good, and he can only keep himself awake for so long. He’s running out of options, sooner or later, Lee will die at his hands.

 

_You would have killed her, just like you did the other one! You couldn't have helped it!_

 

He doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but he recognizes the voice that says them. Oswald had been right, Lee had almost been killed, and it was all because of him. There’s nothing he can do to stop it, Lee had already told him that. It was all psychological, she’d said, but how can he solve this puzzle when he doesn’t have all of the pieces to work with?

There weren’t many places for him to turn. He’d been on the edge of his last step, a noose tied tightly around his neck, when Riddler finally offered a compromise. Go to Arkham, stay alive, and Lee lives too. Simple.

“I hate that you were right about this,” Ed sighs, taking the pen,“...but it'll keep her safe.”

The pen hovers over the contract, signing his life away in place of Lee’s.

“ _Hey, Ed? What has two eyes but can't see?_ ”

“Oh, this again. Two needles, half of Mississippi. Who cares?”

“ _You should, Ed._ ”

The sound of a buzzer draws his attention. He jumps from his seat when he finds Oswald standing before him with a wide, manic grin.

“I knew you'd come! I knew you'd understand my letter!”

“How did you know I'd be...What are you talking about?”

“I'm not talking to you, Ed. I'm talking to _him_.”

Oswald points to the air behind him. When Ed turns around, the Riddler is gone, and when he turns back, he’s standing by Oswald smiling, holding the letter in his hands.

“ _Read the first word of each sentence._ ”

Ed looks carefully, following the words circled on the note.

 

          _Please bring Ed to Arkham so I can set you free._

 

“ _What has two eyes but can't see what's happening in front of him_ ,” Riddler taunts. “ _Ed Nygma!_ ”

“No! I came here to save Lee.”

“He read my letter,” Oswald laughs in relief.

“Y-you're wrong! I am Ed! Edward Nygma! That is it! Lee believes in me. She sees me for who I am.”

“...But I see _him,_  Ed!”

“No…” He turns back towards the contract, only a few lines away from trapping them both in this Hell. He takes the pen in his hand, but Oswald rushes him, pulling him back and grabbing on to him.

“Lee Thompkins may have made Ed strong, but I see the other you. The one whose name I wouldn't speak...But because he has earned it, and because I need him, I'm saying it now-”

“No, please! Please don't.” Ed tries pushing himself away, but Oswald latches on.

“I need you…”

“Please-”

“...Riddler.”

White hot rage shoots through him as he grabs onto Oswald, begging his body to take hold of his neck and give it a firm squeeze. No sooner than his vision goes red, the room around him fades away, pulling him into vapid nothingness.

 

 

 

The second time he goes under, his whole world blacks out.

There’s some level of conscious in the silence, anxiety and fear remains as his mind floats through the abyss. For the most part, he faces a void endless nothing, all memory and thought absent in this world.

...And then comes the pain, drilling deep into him, unending it seems. His psyche is screaming, begging for it to end, but he can’t speak the words. It’s too much for him to bear, his mind trying its hardest to numb out every invisible foe that hits him.

After who knows how long, it subsides into a thrumming ache that almost blocks out everything else. He’s vaguely aware of the other sensations around him. There’s a kiss, the smell of alcohol and fire burning, and then the scent of something foul and thick encompasses him.

A vision melts over his eyes. He’s in a dark room, surrounded by bodies lying limp atop the stone floor. He recognizes their faces. Kristen, Isabella, Lee, all of them spread out on the floor around him, blood soaking the floor beneath him. They stare up at him with cold, hollow eyes, each of them filled with a mixture of fear and hatred.

He doesn’t know what’s happened, but he knows that somehow it’s because of him. He’d tried everything he could, but it was never enough. Lee was dead, just like Kristen and Isabella before her. He killed her.

 

_You couldn't have helped it!_

 

They’re all dead, because he killed them, it’s his fault, it’s his fault!

 Suddenly, his senses start coming back to him. Everything’s dark, but when he blinks his eyes, he realizes it's because they've been covered. He tries to speak, but there’s cloth at his mouth that stops him from anything above a groan.

A jolt bumps him against a hard, metal surface, most likely the inner hood of a car. It’s then that he realizes he’s been and blindfolded, and from the tightness around his arms and legs, he figures he’s been captured...but why?

After a few minutes of driving, the car screeches to a halt. His captor pulls him out and forces him to walk until they’ve entered some kind of building.

“I’ve brought you a little present,” the voice calls out. He’s thrown to the ground as a pair of footsteps approach, one set heavy and the other light and uneven.

“How did you find him?”

He knows that voice, he doesn't know how, but it's very familiar. Maybe he can convince this man to let him go. If he could just remember the name...

“He was at an old warehouse stashing some of his cash. Scarecrow got to him first, but I managed to pull him away.”

“Excellent!” There’s the sound of paper rustling, paper bills by the sound of it.

“What are you going to do with him?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” the familiar voice says, low and sinister. “I’ve given this bastard enough chances, he’ll regret the day I offered him any mercy-”

“No. I’m taking him.”

Another voice he recognizes, this one deeper.

“What!? Why?”

“We still have a grudge to settle.”

“Um, yeah, get in line!”

There’s the sound of rustling and a startled gasp.

“That quack doctor of your’s couldn’t fix me like you promised he would. The way I see it, you owe me, big time,” the second voice growls. “It’s either you or him, take your pick.”

There’s a brief pause of consideration.

“Fine, take him,” the first voice seethes,“...but you and I are even after this.”

“Fair enough.”

He's pulled up from the floor and shoved into another trunk, all the while protesting to be freed. They drive for nearly an hour, when he's pulled out again. based on the echoing of their footsteps, it sounds like they're in a large room, perhaps some kind of warehouse.

The gag and blindfold are roughly yanked from his face. Once his eyes land on the pale face of his captor, he remembers the name that goes along with it.

“Grundy! It’s me, Ed! We’re friends…”

“Nice try, Riddler,” Grundy says, but it's not really him, Ed realizes. Butch must have recovered his memory somehow. If that's the case, then this isn’t going to end well.

"I've never really been one for words, at least not with slimeballs such as yourself," Butch says. "When this kind of thing happens between friends, you need to make it special. For you, I'll keep it short and sweet."

His heart is pounding in his chest when Butch pulls at the ties binding his hands.

“Remember when you had me fight,” Butch asks. “I had this one move that the crowd loved, ‘stop-hitting-yourself’ you called it.”

Vague images flash through his mind, blood, screaming, nothing good.

Butch chuckles. “That was clever, you always did enjoy that one.”

He finally unties Ed’s arms. With the blood circulation cut off, they’re too numb for him to move them away from Butch’s grasp. Butch starts to pull up at his left arm as the panic begins to set in.

“Butch, please, I’m not him!” The grips tightens as Butch starts turning it back “Don’t! Please-”

Pain tears through his arm, searing at the stretch of skin and stabbing at the twist of muscle. His screams barely cover the the snapping of ligaments and sickening crack of bone that echoes through the open room.

A sudden crashing stops Butch from continuing. The headlights of a vehicle swerve through the warehouse, pulling up just before the two of them. The door opens and a gun clicks.

“Drop him, now!”

Butch growls at the command, but ultimately concedes. Ed drops to the hard ground, letting out a yelp of pain as Butch takes off in the opposite direction.

A pair of hands drag him up and over to the van, his arm hanging too loosely at his side, a thick trail of blood dribbling behind him. They pull him into the back, where he’s once again met with a familiar face.

“Get us back to the clinic,” Lee yells at the driver, dabbing his shoulder with a towel.

She’s still alive, he hadn’t killed her yet. He releases a sigh of relief.

As they drive away, he finds that his body is lighter than normal. He’s covered with sweat, despite the fact that he feels frozen.

“He’s going into shock.” She pulls the cloth back from his arm, soaked with his own blood. “Dammit,” she hisses, passing it over to an assistant. “Get me another one.”

“Lee…”

At the sound of his voice, she snaps her head down to him. “Riddler?”

He shakes his head violently. “No… not him,” he slurs, his vision fading in and out with each pulse of his heartbeat. “Hurts…”

“Ed, stay awake,” she demands. “I’m doing everything I can, but you need to try to stay awake.”

“I can’t…,” is all he can manage before his vision gives out.

 

 

 

He finds this blackout is different than before. It isn’t the Riddler this time, just the calmness of sleep taking hold. When he wakes up, he’s lying down in an old bed at Cherry’s Place, his body stiff and sore. He releases a muffled groan, catching the attention of the figure sitting quietly at his bedside.

“You’re awake,” Lee says, getting up from her seat. “How do you feel.”

He tries speaking, but all that comes out is a suppressed moan. Lee smiles, pushing the hair out of his face.

“I managed to save your arm, though you won’t have the best mobility. You’re going to be on painkillers for at least another week.”

“What happened,” he murmurs once he finally musters the strength to speak.

“When you were the Riddler, you and I robbed a few banks to get money, but it seemed that Oswald had the same idea,” she explains. “He managed to get away with some of the money, so we came came up with a plan to find it when we heard he placed a reward on your capture.”

“I had one of our guys take you to Oswald, track his location so that we could figure out where he was keeping the remaining money,” she continues. “Riddler was sure that Oswald would spare him, but we hadn’t considered that Butch or Scarecrow were going to be an issue.”

He takes a small amount of pleasure knowing that Riddler managed to have one of his brilliant plans botched, despite the fact that he almost lost an arm as a result. Her explanation makes sense save for one thing.

“Who’s Oswald?”

She pauses, then offers him a sad smile. “Don’t worry about that right now. You’re going to need your rest.”

She returns to her seat and dims the light as his eyes fall closed.

“Thank you, Lee,” he murmurs with his last bit of strength.

Just before he drifts to sleep, he swears he can feel a gentle kiss press into his lips.

 

**.**

**.**

 

Time passes by in a long blur. Sometimes he’s himself, other times he blacks out, only to awaken in confusion and peril some days (or even months) later.

One day he wakes up in a hospital bed, but it’s not Lee’s clinic or even Gotham General. Based on the concrete walls and bars lining the windows, it looks like he’s been sent to Blackgate’s medical ward.

As he pushes himself up, a sudden pain spikes through his stomach. He looks down and pulls up on his hospital gown, finding his abdomen has been bandaged.

“It hurts doesn’t it?”

Ed snaps his head up at the voice. At the back corner of the room sits a man he hadn’t noticed before.

“Gunshots are always bitch to deal with. I’d know all about that, wouldn’t I,” the voice chuckles from the darkness.

“Why are you here,” Ed asks.

“The Joker called me up, said the two of you had a chat that didn’t go so well,” the man explains, stepping into the light. “He asked me to pay you a visit and send his regards.”

Ed wasn’t privy to the company Joker kept, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out who he’s talking to. A dark suit and a well used umbrella to guide him through his limping steps, there’s only one person this can be.

“...And what regards would that be,” he asks, his eyes drifting down to the umbrella. He’s heard enough to be wary of Penguin’s notorious weapon.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he replies with a small smile. “...But don’t worry, I won’t be doing anything of that sort today.”

Ed keeps his eyes trained on him. “Why not?”

Penguin sighs. “I admit, hearing about you taking a bullet made me think back on the past.” He sits down on the side of the bed. “A lot of it was filled with anger, but there were also some good moments too. It’s been awhile since we last spoke.”

“It has?”

Penguin’s shoulders relax a bit. “Oh, I see. You’re not Riddler right now, are you?”

Ed doesn’t respond, he doesn’t need to.

“Well then, I guess it’s been even longer than we last spoke,” he hums. “Whenever I think back on those days, I realize that so much has changed. I wonder if I can say the same for you.”

Penguin’s hand reaches out as if to stroke his face, but Ed pulls away first. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh please, you aren’t still mad about your arm, are you,” he rolls his eyes. “That was ten years ago, Ed, we’ve all moved on from-”

“What.” Ed pushes himself further away, despite the growing pain in his lower half. “What are you talking about?”

Penguins brows knit together in confusion. “Ed?”

Ed’s hand moves back to table next to him, blindly searching for anything he can defend himself with.

“Mr. Penguin, I don’t know what Riddler has done to you, but I have had no part in it.”

Penguin stares at him, stunned. He leans closer. “Did you just call me-”

“Stay away,” Ed snaps, pulling out the first thing his hand finds. It’s only a pencil, but even something like that could be used as weapon. Regardless, Penguin grabs hold of his hand, trying to pull him closer.

As Ed struggles against Penguin’s grasp, he manages to get a good kick at his bad leg. Penguin falls to the floor in a cry of pain as he breaks away, jumping out of the bed, hand clutched at his wound. He’s able to stagger to the entryway, Penguin yelling after him from his place on the floor.

“Ed!”

He pushes himself into the hallway, his eyes darting about the facility. He heads down the nearest corridor, not paying much attention towards where he’s going. He needs to get away from that room first, then he can start finding his way out of this place.

He wanders the halls for a good ten minutes when he realizes that Penguin isn’t following him anymore. With the initial rush of adrenaline coming down, the pain in his stomach builds at an unbearable rate. He only makes it a few more steps before his legs give out and he collapses to the ground. He pulls his trembling hand away from his stomach to see a patch of blood leaking through the gown.

“You!”

He turns his face up, finding a guard rushing towards him. There’s nothing he can do as the guard handcuffs him on the floor, calling for the staff to bring a gurney.

By the time they get him back to his room, Penguin is gone. They handcuff him to the bed, and for a while he fears that he’ll be trapped upon his return.

Those fears dissipate throughout the night, as the hours pass by with no sign of Penguin whatsoever.

 

 

 

The next time he returns from his latest venture as the Riddler, he finds himself in a cell at Arkham. It’s not an unusual occurrence, Riddler often likes to abandon him whenever he’s sent to Arkham, too bored with the place to hang around long.

He knows a lot of time must have passed, the wound on his stomach has fully scarred over. He remembers Riddler mentioning something about ‘making the Joker laugh’, but he doesn’t care to think it over. He’ll be out soon enough, Riddler always has a plan ready for him to escape.

However, unlike before, Riddler decides to grace him with his presence for once, appearing to him when he’s resting alone on his cot with a book in his hands.

“ _I’m not one to toot my own horn...that’s a lie, I'll just say it: I think this has been my greatest scheme to date_ ,” Riddler says through the small mirror at the opposite of his bed. He smiles with a wide, toothy grin. “ _It’s a shame you missed it, it was quite the spectacle. Wouldn’t you like to know how I did it?_ ”

“Not particularly,” Ed replies, not looking up from his book.

Riddler pouts. “ _Your loss._ ”

“Congratulations, sounds like you’ve really outdone yourself.”

“ _My thoughts exactly_.”

That gets Ed’s attention. He glances up from his book. “What?”

“ _You’re correct, there’s no way i can top myself after this_ ,” Riddler sighs. “ _I believe my time is over._ ”

Ed snaps the book shut, dashing over to the mirror.

“You’re not serious.” Riddler doesn’t respond, just grins harder. “What about Batman? You still haven’t figured out the man behind the mask.”

“ _What makes you think I haven’t_ ,” he asks, quirking a brow.

“...Who is it,” he asks, unable to deny his own curiosity.

Riddler offers a small smirk in response. “ _Maybe you’ll figure it out on your own._ ”

The reality of what’s happening sets in, and he finds himself filled with bitter anger.

“So that’s really it? You torture me for ten years of my life, and now you’re just done?!”

“ _Yep, pretty much_ ,” Riddler nods. “ _I’ve tied all of my loose ends, there’s nothing left for me here._ ”

Ed watches as Riddler pulls away from his reflective station, walking up to the reflected door and opening it with ease. He takes one last glance at his physical counterpart.

“ _Good luck tying things up, my friend_ ,” he smirks before he walks out of the cell, closing the door behind him.

The next day, when he’s looking through the bookshelves of the recreation room, one of the books catches his eye, a small question mark scratched into the spine. He pulls the book out and flips through the pages, reading the notes scribbled over the words.

 

 _When you’re ready to leave, do_ _exactly_ _as I say._

 

 

 

Riddler’s last escape plan goes off without a hitch, although the timing of it was a bit inaccurate and finds himself out a bit later into the night than anticipated. He runs through the trees outside the gates, searching for his getaway vehicle. Sure enough, Lee is waiting for him at the rendezvous point.

As he approaches the car, she rolls down the window. “So you finally decided to show up,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Missed you too,” he replies before he leans in for a quick kiss. He walks to the passenger seat and closes the door behind him as Lee drives off to the main road.

“Have you eaten anything yet,” she asks and he shakes his head. “Good, I’m starving. Next time we break you out, I’m bringing some takeout with me.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be a next time.” She glances over him, confused. He gives her a small smile. “He’s gone, Lee.”

Her eyes widen. “Does that mean you…?”

She pulls off to the side of the road and stops the car before turning to him.

“Ed, can tell you me how we first met?”

He takes a deep breath and concentrates hard, sifting through every corner of his brain.

“I was living out on the streets,” he begins. “I needed money, and I came to Cherry’s Place to make bets. You didn’t like me at first, but then when you took over, I helped you manage the Narrows.”

He looks back to her for approval, but is met with disappointment when he sees the sadness on her face.

“That’s not right is it?”

“No,” she says quietly. “We met when we were both working at the GCPD. I was the medical examiner, you worked in forensics.”

“Oh.” Slowly his mind conjures memories that fit her description, loose pieces of a larger puzzle that don’t quite fit together. He doesn’t try too hard to hold onto them, they’ll slip away soon enough.

“I’m sorry, Ed.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says with a sad smile.

"Yes it is," she says. "You asked me to help you with this, and I did nothing. I should have tried harder to-"

"No, you were right in your diagnosis," Ed stops her. "Maybe we were wrong about it being connected to the Riddler, but I still think this problem stems from my own psyche. It's my brain that I need to work with, if I'm going to fix this, I'll have figure it out myself."

She places a comforting hand on his leg. "Just know that I'll be here to help you through this, whatever it is."

"I've never doubted that," he smiles.

After a few moments of silence, Lee pulls the car back onto the road and drives them back to the city.

 

**.**

**.**

 

“Why do we stay here,” Lee asks one night. They’re lying in bed, staring off into the darkness of the room before the heaviness of sleep takes them.

“What do you mean?”

“This city is crumbling, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop that. Everyone else has already left. Selina, Ivy, they’ve got it all figured out.”

Ed doesn’t understand what she means, bringing up those women, but says nothing as she speaks her mind.

“I had a chance to leave...No, I had _two_ chances to leave, but I kept coming back. This city has caused me nothing but pain, all I have are bad memories, but I can’t leave. What’s keeping me here?”

“Loose ends,” he suggests. ”You don’t want to leave things where they are.”

Lee shakes her head. “I’ve given so much of my life to this place, but I know there’s no point to it. Even if the Narrows makes it through, there will always be hardships somewhere else. It’s like entropy, for there to be order, there must be chaos. It never stops, and I know that...”

“...And what about Jim? Do you think there’s still a chance for him to find order?”

She turns her head towards him, guilt spreading across her face.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Lee. I know you’re still waiting for him.”

She doesn’t deny the claim, turning her gaze back towards the ceiling.

“You can still make it work.”

“It’s not my decision to make,” she says sadly. “He has to decide if he wants me.”

Ed snorts. “When has he ever _not_ wanted you?”

“No, he wants me to take him back, but he doesn’t want _me_ ,” she mutters bitterly. “I can tell. Whenever I see him, I know what he’s thinking. He thinking about that woman he met back at Arkham, the one whose husband he shot dead. I could take the Narrows back a million times over, but he’ll never see me as anything other than that helpless woman he knew all those years ago. He still wants that perfect life with us settled down in a nice house with a pair of kids, and that’s never going to happen. He’ll keep trying to bring that woman back, but he’ll never want the person I’ve become.”

Her hand is gripped tightly against the sheets in a fist. He wraps his own hand around hers, whispering quietly. “I’m sorry, Lee.”

Through the anger, her lip starts to quiver. Her face passes between rage and despair until her resolve finally breaks and the first tears begin to roll down her face.

“I still love him, Ed,” she says through choked sobs. “I just wish that he could love me back.”

He lets her ride out her tears, waiting quietly until she releases one last, shuddering breath.

“God, there really is something wrong with me.”

Ed smiles. “That makes two of us. How long do you think you can wait for him, Lee?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “...But as soon as he’s ready, I’m taking us both away from this wretched city.”

“Be sure to send me a postcard,” Ed jokes, but his smile soon fades away. “What if he never comes around?”

She sighs. “Then I guess I’ll die here.” She leans into him, wrapping her arms around his chest. “What about you, Ed? What are you waiting for?”

He turns his chin, allowing her head to nuzzle in between the crook of his neck, rubbing his thumb in circles against her arm.

“I don’t know...”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bad...Did I forget to mention that this is a memory loss fic :3c
> 
> How ironic~


	4. Slash and Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s chapter is rated G...for Gaslighting.

 

 

“Goodnight, Ed.”

“Goodnight, Oswald.”

He waits until Ed’s far enough away from the lounge, before he shuts the door, the sweet rush of victory blossoming in his chest. The his first attempt at bringing them together hadn’t ended as well as he’d hoped, but least he’s managed to get Ed into his good graces. It’s all he needs to make this work.

There’s still a few challenges ahead for him. As it seems, the man’s dead set on staying retired, but he’s no fool. There’d been many times in the past when Riddler had claimed himself reformed, each time ending with his inevitable return to crime. Although this had been his longest streak ever. It was probably Lee, she’d straightened him out good, that bitch.

...But Oswald was never one to believe in lost causes. He’d come around one day, with Oswald there to guide him along the way.

He hobbles back to the kitchen and starts picking at one of the dishes the chef had prepared.

“Are you hungry,” he asks Martin. “You might as well eat whatever’s here, it’ll go bad otherwise.”

Martin watches him, unimpressed. He hadn’t been overjoyed when Oswald had informed him of his plan, thinking the whole thing was a waste of time. Now that they’d finally gotten control of the Narrows, the Penguin’s reign encompassed the entire city. He should be focusing on keeping his kingdom in one piece, not romancing some washed up ex-criminal.

“Stop giving me that look. The underworld won’t suddenly disappear just because I have a little side project going on.”

Martin pulls one of the paper towels from the sink, taking his pen out and writing something down. When he’s finished, he passes the note over for Oswald to read over.

_He’s going to find out._

Oswald regards the note in silence, then bundles it up and tosses it into the trash.

“You’re overestimating him. I don’t blame you, you’ve never known him when he’s not the Riddler,” he sighs. “Ed Nygma isn’t the same mastermind that you’re familiar with. He won’t notice if things aren’t quite right, he doesn’t have the smarts for it. He’s just an odd man that likes looking at puzzles and watching game shows.”

Martin still looks doubtful, but it doesn’t matter. He won’t be complaining once Oswald’s managed to bring the Riddler over to their side.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to bring the Riddler back, mark my words.” He takes another bite from the platter. “It’d be a shame to let that brain go to waste.”

 

**.**

**.**

 

The Riddler had been the first one to go, following the end of his war with Joker.

Oswald hadn’t realized it at the time, he figured this was just another one of his mental breaks he’d become accustomed to. Time passed by, Ed broke out of Arkham, as usual. Oswald would check the papers every so often for some sign of the Riddler’s return. Nothing came, but it was only a matter of time.

The next to go was Selina. Her marriage to Bruce Wayne may have come as surprise to the average citizens of Gotham (...a millionaire philanthropist married to a common thief, who would have thought?), but everyone that knew her had seen coming from miles away. Tabitha had followed soon after, only staying around for the wedding before she disappeared into the world.

No one really knew what happened to Barbara. There were rumors that ranged from mundanity to ridiculousness. Some said she left town to escape legal troubles, as if that had ever pressured her before. Others said she’d gone insane, as if she hadn’t been already. The more colorful storytellers said she’d gone off to run some sort of ancient organization. That was the strangest theory of them all, but then again, the company she’d kept in recent years had been quite mysterious and unsavory, and that was coming from Gotham’s own king of crime.

One by one, more of the rogues left town. Fries, Firefly, even Zsasz had grown bored with Gotham’s new team of vigilantes running around. His list of allies had shriveled over a matter of years, and still, the Riddler hadn’t returned.

Ivy’s departure had come as the biggest shock. He’d known about her and Quinn for a while by that time, but there’d never been any mention of them leaving. If anything, Ivy had said that taking down Gotham was more important than her. The sudden loss of her presence had shaken him, and what stung even more was that she hadn’t even stopped by to say goodbye. They’d had their ups and downs over the years, but they’d been friends. Hadn’t they?

When he’d met his father, all those years ago, the man had told him he would never be alone again. His father was an honest man, and Oswald knew that he would never lie to him. Even so, he’d felt more lonely these days than ever before.

His wallowing is interrupted by the cocking of a gun. It’s a bit overkill. Sure he’s is trespassing, but it’s not like he’s doing any harm by it. There’s no one even around the place for him to antagonize. Who wakes up at six anymore?

“Hello Lee,” he slurs, turning his stool to face his assailant. “How are you on this fair morning?”

“The hell are you doing at my club?”

“I seem to recall this fine establishment being named Cherry’s Place, not Lee Thompkins’ No-Fun-Allowed House.”

She wrinkles her nose at the overpowering scent of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

He gestures to the emptied bottles lying around him. “What’s a few stolen drinks between friends?”

She narrows her eyes, but reluctantly lowers her gun. “I’m not your friend, Oswald. What do you want?”

How does he answer that? There’s many things he wants right now, the Narrows, his parents alive and well. Maybe that’s a bit much to ask, he’ll start with the little things for now.

“Where’s Ed?”

“He’s not here.”

His grip on the bar top tightens. “Yes, _obviously_ , I’m asking you where he is.”

She crosses her arms. “Why do you want to know, what are you planning?”

“I just want to have a little chat. It’s been a long time since we last saw each other. Not a whole lot of familiar faces left in this town.”

Lee purses her lips together. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

“No, I can’t imagine he does. We both know why that is, don’t we Lee?” He glances up at her with all the spite he can manage, but she remains as impassive as ever.

He turns back to the bar and takes a drink from one of the remaining bottles.

“There was this time, back when I was working for Falcone. Maroni was still mad over my betrayal, and he decided to visit the club while my mother was there. He told her everything about me, about the club…she was so horrified she fainted.” He takes another swig. “I spent the whole night trying to convince her that he’d been joking, but she didn’t believe me. She looked at me like she had no idea who I was, like she was scared of me. I try not to think back on that night, but the look on her face never ceases to haunt me.”

He downs the remaining liquid and drops the bottle to the floor, turning back around to look at her.

“I visited Ed once, five years ago, when he’d been shot...And you know something, Lee? He looked at me in the exact same way.”

Her face is guarded, there’s no denying that she knows perfectly well what he’s referring to. Any doubt that he’d had is all but erased with one simple look.

“How long,” he asks.

“It started when you killed Isabella, but it only got bad after you froze him.”

 _Fifteen years._ He tries to think back on any time he might have caught Ed during his more docile periods. There hadn’t been many, only a quick glance shared between them on occasion. Had it really been going on for that long?

Then the reality of Lee’s words catches up to him.

“So, you’re blaming me for this,” he seethes.

“You asked me a question and I gave you the answer, that’s it,” she snaps.

“Does anyone else know about it?”

“No, just the three of us now.”

“Ah, kept it a secret, hm? So you could keep him all to yourself, is that it?”

“He asked me to keep quiet about it,” she sighs. “You know how he gets about his image...And frankly, I don’t think you’re ready to see him.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” he fumes. “What sort of venom have you been whispering to him about me?”

“I haven’t mentioned anything about you. Believe or not, demonizing you is not a priority of mine, you do a well enough job of that on your own.”

“Then why shouldn’t I talk to him? I’ve made my peace with that man countless times over.”

“With Riddler, yes, but Ed isn’t just the Riddler.”

“...But he could be.” He stands from his seat and hobbles towards her. She takes a step back. “I could help him become the Riddler again, I did it before. I made him strong, what have you done for him besides hide him away from the world?”

“I love Riddler all the same, but-”

With one small misstep, he falls to his knees. Lee jumps back slightly at the impact, but he grabs hold of her hands.

“Then let me talk to him,” he begs. “I’m the only one that can make him into that person once more. _Please._ ”

He knows how he probably looks, desperate and needy. He’ll probably regret this the next time he wakes up, but right now, he isn’t sober enough to care.

Lee watches him, wide eyed at the display. There’s an achingly long silence between them when her face cracks into a smile.

“You really don’t get it.” She laughs, dry and joyless, yanking her hands away from his grip. “You are _just_ like Jim.”

She gives him one last look of pity, before she walks away towards the door.

“Pay what you owe me for the drinks, then get out of my club.”

He stays anchored to that spot for a few minutes more, soaking in his loss. This is not how things would end for him, sitting alone on the cold ground in the darkness. He was the King of Gotham, he never gave up without a fight.

He’s going to see Ed, maybe not now, but he could wait. Lee wouldn’t be able to hide him away forever. Sooner or later, the day would come where she too was gone from this city.

 

**.**

**.**

 

If there’s one thing about Oswald that no one could ever deny, it’s that he’s always been an avid listener.

One time a few years back, he and Tetch had been talking, and he’d asked him how he made his victims do the things they did. Any man could pull out a watch and whisper a few honeyed words, but that alone was hardly enough to take full control over someone’s mind.

The secret, he’d said, was that they had to want it, somewhere deep inside them. To take control of the mind, one had to know it’s deepest desires and coax it into submission. Once you found that out, you could bend and stretch their mind until it snapped. Whatever was left after that was merely clay, ready to be molded to one’s own desires.

When Oswald had asked about memories, he’d described them as a piece of cloth, each individual memory a single strand intertwined together to form a complete image. If you pulled at one, the whole picture would eventually unravel, but the pieces could always be brought back together into something new.

He found this description to be quite fitting as he navigated through Ed’s memory. There were concepts that he still retained, even though the finer details were always missing. For instance, if they were talking about Jim Gordon, Ed would know that he was Gotham’s police commissioner and that Riddler had dealt him a fair number of challenges. He would even mention how the two of them had been well acquainted in the past. However, without anything there to prompt him, he couldn’t recall exactly how they’d been acquainted, the conversations they’d had, how they’d become enemies. Unless Oswald gave him some sort of guidance towards these answers, he would have no recollection of these events.

If Oswald told Ed that he’d been a witness to Jim killing Galavan, Ed would take the fib and work it into his reality. Of course Ed had witnessed it happen, after all, he’d given the police an anonymous tip saying he had. He wouldn’t do that unless it were true, right?

It was a happy medium between truth and lie that was perfect for Oswald to wash over the canvas and start anew, painting a new picture for them to live out.

It wasn’t always easy to do so, not all things could be forgotten so easily.

One of the few times that Ed had resisted occurred early on at the lounge. They’d been discussing a new housing development at the edge of the Narrows, when Ed had suddenly stood from his his seat in a panic.

“It’s sunset…”

“Yes, I guess it is,” Oswald replied, taking a look out the window to the blue-gray sky. When he turned back, Ed had started to collect his his things. “Where are you going?”

“I was supposed to visit Lee today.”

“You already visited her this week,” Oswald lied.

“I did?”

“Yes, two days ago. I asked for you to stop by and you said you couldn’t make it.“

Normally when Oswald explained himself, Ed would take the explanation easily, but on that day, something stopped him.

“...No, that was last week.” It was the first time Ed had looked at him with such suspicion in years. “Excuse me, I need to go.”

Perhaps Oswald should have just let him go, he would always come back the next day, but the shock of Ed’s refusal had made him antsy.

“You can’t leave now, we still have to figure out what where we’ll be sending people once their homes are under construction.”

“You don’t need me to do that,” he replied, annoyed. “You’re the boss, figure it out yourself.”

Ed had been this reserved with him many times over their renewed companionship, but this attitude had started to grate his nerves. He’d given his fair share of leniency, maybe Ed ought to remember who he was talking to.

“This is too important for you to go now. I’d hate for a few hundred families to go homeless because someone refused to help me,” he’d said, keeping the tone of his voice low and threatening. “I insist, please stay.”

Rather than shrink away, Ed had stepped up to him with snide confidence.

“I don’t work for you, Oswald, you can’t tell me what to do.”

When he turned back to walk away, Oswald grabbed onto his arm.

“What the hell are you doing,” Ed hissed, wrenching his arm back. The freedom was short lived as Oswald grabbed hold of him once again. “Let me go!”

They struggled for a solid ten seconds before Oswald caved and smacked him in the head with his umbrella. He must not have realized the force in his blow, because one hit had all it taken for Ed to be knocked unconscious to the floor.

“ _Shit._ ” If he’d taken Ed the the hospital, the whole thing might have ended before it ever started.

Looking him over quickly, he hadn’t found any sign of blood or bruising. He’d just have to take the risk and give him rest. He called one of his men in to collect Ed.

“Get him home, put him to bed and make sure he’s comfortable.”

He spent the rest of that night anxiously pacing about his office. Once he’d been ensured that Ed was sleeping soundly back at his apartment, he’d started thinking over how he would explain himself the next day. He could always start over if he had to, but that was going to be a hassle.

As it seemed, none of that would be needed. When Oswald called in the next day to ask how he was feeling, the entire incident had been forgotten. Ed briefly mentioned the splitting headache he’d woken up with, but was quick to pass it off as an oncoming cold. Crisis averted.

In the weeks following that incident, whatever guilt Oswald might have felt was easily washed away. He made sure to keep his temper intact, and in turn, Ed had stopped visiting the grave. He seemed happier for it, no longer troubled with such a dour obligation. How could Oswald regret taking that small bit of pain from his life?

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying went.

 

 

 

The months passed by, and slowly but surely, Oswald had worked his way into Ed’s life completely.

Each meeting between them allowed him to tug harder at the strings puppeteering his brain, and each time, Ed would let him. Somewhere, deep down, he would want them to make it work. He needed the order, he couldn’t help it.

He did everything he needed to make Ed comfortable with him. They went to the opera, ate nice food, everything that pretentious bastard liked. If some idiot came whining to him over money or some other nonsense, he’d remain calm for as long Ed was around, only unleashing his real anger after he’d left. As far as Ed knew, Oswald was a revered crime boss whose name had been tarnished within the Narrows to maintain solidarity against an imaginary foe.

It was an agonizingly long wait, but all that hard work came to a triumphant climax. They weren’t just friends anymore, they were everything they should have been twenty years ago. Now it was finally him that had Ed all to himself, not some undeserving woman that stifled his genius. He’s a long ways away from bringing Riddler back, but progress is still progress.

However, as has often been the case throughout his life, his success always ends with a bitter afternote.

Though his memories were loose and chaotic, Ed always maintained some concept of the past. He remembered the people he’d met, even if the details weren’t all there. He even remembered Ivy of all people. _Ivy_!...And not even the newer, homicidal one whose face was once found in every newspaper in Gotham, but the one that and acted like she ate magic mushrooms in her spare time.

With each moment of reminiscence between them, Oswald had realized that there was only one person that was missing from Ed’s memory entirely: himself.

There was nothing of their old life together, not the mansion, not the docks. Everything that had happened between them was gone, and it seemed no amount of suggestion could bring those memories back.

...But maybe that’s for the better. That Ed had hated him, that Ed would never take him back. There was no use crying over the ashes of the life that had burned away, not when something new could be grown in its place.

He wakes on the sofa that morning following their first night together, feeling that heavy but familiar weight missing from his chest. He walks over to the dining room to find Ed sitting at the table picking happily from the pile of leftovers. When he looks up from his meal, there’s no hatred in his eyes, just warm contentment.

The past could stay in the past. They would create something better on their own.

 

**.**

**.**

 

Without much persuasion on his part, he was able to convince Ed to move in with him after only a few weeks. Martin wasn’t too thrilled over having someone else in their house, but his grumpiness was a fair price to pay for him keeping a closer eye on Ed.

It was also the perfect opportunity for him to sift through Ed’s belongings and take out anything that he wouldn’t need any more. There were a few things from Isabella, a number gifts from Lee over the years, things that Ed wouldn’t have any use for anymore. They were sentimental, sure, but what was sentiment to a man with no memories? Anything Ed had, Oswald could easily replace and even improve on.

He spends his nights at the lounge and conducting his other work, and then at day, he returns to Ed at the mansion. The whole thing was pleasantly domestic, and having a regular sex life for once isn’t so bad.

Yet he is also living at a constant state of restlessness watching Ed drift about. He’s been working on him for months, and still there is no sign of the Riddler returning anytime soon.

They’re laying in bed one early morning, Oswald having returned from the lounge just an hour before. He peers over at the man lying next to him. He looks so much calmer than he used to be, a huge contrast from the story told by the scars covering his body. The sight of that pale, knotted skin stretching over his shoulder in a jagged line sends a shiver down his spine, the simple knowing of how he played his part in it’s existence passing through his mind.

“Don’t you get bored of sitting around all day,” he asks to distract himself from the sight.

“Not necessarily,” Ed murmurs, shifting around to look at him. “Though I admit it has been a little dull recently. What would you advise I do about that?”

“Our newest mayor hasn’t been paying his dues. I’ve been considering _inviting_ him to the club for a little _chat_ , but we both know Batman has his ears everywhere. It’d be nice if I had someone to distract him,” Oswald suggests with a small smirk. “...maybe with something of the puzzling variety.”

“That would be fun to see,” Ed says with a sinister grin.”...but unfortunately I’m retired.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that about a thousand times or so,” Oswald mumbles.

Ed considers the suggestion, then counters with one of his own. “What if we left town for a while?”

“Leave Gotham?” He sits up against the headrest. “Why?”

Ed shrugs. “Just for a little vacation. I’ve never been down South before. I’d love to see one of those beaches everyone talks about.”

“There’s beaches here.”

Ed scoffs. “Yeah they’re covered in sharp rocks and it’s never sunny.” When Oswald doesn’t respond, he pulls the covers over himself. “Forget it. Sorry I asked.”

Oswald scoffs at the terseness. “Ed, I’m the kingpin of the criminal underworld,” he explains. ”Leaving Gotham isn’t an option for me.”

“I know,” Ed replies, but his tone is still sour.

Oswald rolls his eyes. Ed will surely forget about it by the next day, but who knows how many times he’ll bring it up again? Maybe they could take a quick trip to the woods, something small to quell his stir-crazy needs. He hasn’t been out that way since...

“What is it,” Ed asks, seeing the small smile on Oswald’s face.

“I was just thinking about something,” he says. “Do you remember how we met?”

Ed doesn’t reply. Oswald can see that he’s trying his hardest to remember, combing over everything he has to find some kind of clue. Nothing comes from it.

Oswald sighs. He shouldn’t feel so disappointed, it’s not like he’d expected differently.

“It’s alright if you don’t, it was a long time ago-”

“Wait…”

He freezes at the tone of Ed’s voice, determined and steady.

“It was back when I worked at the GCPD, I was working with forensics...You showed up at the station one day, looking for Detective Gordon. You only gave me a passing glance, but as soon as I saw you...”

He trails off, Oswald leans in closer. “Yes?”

Ed’s quiet, brows knit together in concentration. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“...Then you asked me to come to your club for dinner,” he continues. “When I came by, there wasn’t anyone else there. You said you’d closed it for the night so that we could have dinner alone. I got freaked out because I hadn’t been on a date before, but you asked me to give you a chance, and I did.”

He turns to Oswald, looking for approval. He deflates when he’s met with Oswald’s deadpan stare.

“That’s not right, is it?”

“Ed,” he says, placing his hand on against his cheek. “That is _exactly_ right.”

The smile that graces Ed’s face is a beautiful sight to behold. That alone is enough reward to make up for the letdown.

“I haven’t thought about the GCPD in so long,” Ed says, leaning into Oswald.

“Why would you ever want to? I can’t imagine how restraining that place must have been.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he groans. “The medical examiner that I worked with was terrible. He always made mistakes, but I was the one that got in trouble when I tried to fix them. There’s was even this one time that I was almost fired over it.”

Oswald tuts. “Fools, the lot of them.”

Ed shakes his head. “God, what was his name?”

“...You mean _her_ name.”

Ed looks at him, confused.

“It was Thompkins, wasn’t it? She was dating Gordon for a while, after Barbara left him.”

Ed pauses for a moment, staring ahead at the wall, face blank. Though he doesn’t speak, Oswald can see the gears turning in his head, trying to fit pieces together that don’t match up. His heartbeat picks up, fearing he’s been caught.

Then Ed turns back to him with a smile. “You’re right. It was Dr. Thompkins.”

“I knew I remembered that name from somewhere,” he says, smiling back.

“She was the worst medical practitioner I’d ever met. I can’t believe they kept her around so long,” Ed chuckles. “Then again, she did have a great attitude, and she always smelled nice.”

Oswald snuggles in closer to him. “I’m sure she did.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, one chapter left. Let’s see how this all ends shall we… 
> 
> As a little side note, that “You really don’t get it.” line was one of the first things I wrote for this fic, and I was so freakin happy when she actually said to Jim in the show! <3


	5. Memory Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, this took me a while, but here it is. Enjoy!

 

 

Ed scours through the closet three times over, but not one of his suits is standing out to him this evening. He’s been feeling more finicky than usual over his clothing today, given that Oswald had informed him that they would be going out for dinner the night before.

There was a suit he once had that would have liked to wear, a muted olive that had an emerald glint when the light hit it just right. It was subtle at first glance then at the next, perfect for an occasion such as this. To his dismay, he’s somehow lost track of it. Such a shame, it was one of his favorites.

He’s placing the suits he’s already tried out back on the rack when his eyes catch on the bright green of Riddler’s jacket hanging at the back of the closet. He snickers quietly as he imagines the look on everyone’s faces when they saw him in his full getup. He’d probably even make the papers with all the fuss he’d start.

When he was younger, he might have taken the opportunity to cause a scene, but that isn’t an option now. His absence from the crime scene has made him somewhat of a recluse, the thought of being in the public eye alone jostles his nerves.

...But it’s not always a bad feeling, and it’s been such a long time since he’d snared so much attention...

He knows he shouldn’t, this is supposed to be private, they don’t need any of the restaurant’s nosey customers talking about them...But something deep within him craves for just that. Let them talk. What could they do about it other than watch anxiously, wondering in fear if the Riddler would be returning to Gotham?

On a whim, he pulls the suit out, and looks it over. Despite sitting alone in a closet, it’s still in good condition. He hasn’t worn it in years, he might as well try it on for old time’s sake.

Once he’s finished putting it on, he’s pleasantly surprised with the result. It fits him almost as well as it once had, though it’s a bit looser than before. The muscle that had once filled it out has degraded a bit, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a little exercise. He finds his gloves and bowler boxed away on one of the shelves and slips them on accordingly.

Seeing himself in the mirror brings back an old swell of pride back into his chest. There was a time this image was plastered on every wanted poster in Gotham. It feels good, more so than he thought it would.

Subtlety be damned, he’s going to wear this tonight, and nothing can convince him otherwise. Maybe he’ll even ask if they could be seated with everyone else rather than a private room. Let everyone tremble at the thought of his return to villainy.

...But why stop there, why not confirm those fears? Sitting around the mansion all day with nothing to do has made him restless as of late. It’d be fun to go out and reek havoc on the city, if only for one night.

Oswald wouldn’t mind, in fact Ed’s sure he remembers Oswald suggesting such things himself. He was right, Gotham deserves to see a little mischief once again.

There’s only one small detail missing from his ensemble, a pair of silver cuff links shaped like question marks, small emeralds in place of the ball. They’d been given to him as a gift, by Oswald if he remembers correctly, for one of their anniversaries.

He looks to a small box above the dresser where Oswald usually keeps his cuff links and rings. Sifting through the contents, he discovers his own cuff links aren’t among them. Perhaps Oswald would know where they are...

When he looks up from the box, the reflection startles him.

“Oh!” He jumps when he sees Martin watching him from the doorway. “I didn’t hear you come in. Did you need something?”

Martin shakes his head. He looks over Ed with mild disappointment, though for what, he can’t say. Ed doesn’t think to much of it, he’s long past trying to figure out what goes on in that man’s mind.

“Well, maybe you can help me,” he sighs. “I’m trying to find my cuff links, and I don’t know where they’d be.”

After a moment of consideration, Martin points upward, Ed’s gaze following the direction up to the ceiling.

“The attic,” he asks, nose crinkling in confusion. “Why would they be up there?”

Martin shrugs, turning away and walking out of the room.

“Thanks for the help,” Ed mutters under his breath.

As the rest of him disappears from sight, Martin sticks his hand back into view and flips him off.

“That was uncalled for,” Ed yells after him, but he’s already gone.

The attic wouldn’t seem like the most likely place for them to be. The things Oswald kept up there were mostly antiques from when his father owned the house, nothing younger than twenty years at least. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check.

Taking his head torch with him, he makes his way up to the attic. He’s seen the room a few times before, but he’s never bothered to look through any of the numerous boxes stored there. The air  is heavy with dust and the smell of mold, an uncountable number of cobwebs hang from the walls and stacks of boxes.

He wastes an hour searching through the different boxes scattered around the room when he gives up, no sign of the cuff links to be found. There’s a few boxes containing tools and spare parts to appliances they don’t have anymore, unused china that was probably set out on display once. Old baubles, nothing more. It’s mildly disappointing, but he hadn’t expected any different.

He starts wiping off the grime he’s picked up and heads back for the stairs, when something green at the far corner of the room catches his eye.

Walking towards the object, he discovers it’s a painting. A bright green question mark sprayed over a dark canvas.

The image beneath it is faint, marred by dust accumulated over decades of sitting there unmoved. When he wipes off the layer, he has a clearer view of the painting. At the center of it is a man standing proud and formidable. The face is covered by the graffiti, but he recognizes the silhouette immediately.

He remembers when it was first painted, back when Oswald had been the mayor of Gotham. It had been one of the greatest times of both of their lives, the first time they’d ruled the city.

When he looks closer, he sees himself in the corner, his image untainted by the green paint. Ed hadn’t actually been there at the time it was painted. He’d been in the office one room over, sulking to himself as Sposa Son Disprezzata radiated through the air.

_Isabella always loved Vivaldi._

The sudden thought stops the blood flowing through his body. He hasn’t thought about Isabella in years.

The cold bite of guilt hits him hard as he thinks back on his time with her. The days they were together had come and gone so quickly, only to end by his own hand. What more could he have done? She’d known he was a murderer, but she’d stayed with him anyways. It wasn’t logical.

_Love isn’t logical._

No.

No, that isn’t right...The woman he killed was Kristen, not Isabella. He would never hurt her, she’d shown him that. She’d taken his hand and placed it around her neck herself.

He couldn’t have killed her, so how had she…?

_I did it for love._

Then he remembers the car crash, the coroner had called it an accident, but that wasn’t the case. Someone had paid to have her killed, someone who wanted her out of the way.

 _It was Oswald_ , he realizes. _He’d killed her because he was jealous of us._

A sudden chill runs through him as the bits and pieces of his memories begin to return. He remembers the docks, the ice, the weeks working at Cherry’s Place up until he visited Arkham and then...

At that instant, a rush of pain slams into him. It starts with his mouth, piercing deep into his jaw, accompanied by the memory of drills and needles. A tightness in his arm follows after, following the scar on his shoulder before it reaches the one on his stomach. It grows until it feels like everything’s ripping away from the inside out.

The suddenness of it all to much for his body to handle. His legs feel weak, and they soon give out on him, leading him to fall to the ground. He soon finds he’s unable to move from the spot, paralyzed by the sensation.

The pain continues to strike him in an series unending of waves. All the while, he lays still on the floor, eyes dead set on that damn painting. Every memory that returns to him is another stone of rage building inside of him, only made stronger by the burn emanating throughout his body. It numbs out everything else until all he feels is blistering anger.

Despite being covered by paint, he can see the look on Oswald’s face, watching him with smug satisfaction. He’s not getting away with this, he won’t let that happen.

Eventually, the pain does subside, and soon he’s regained the feeling in his legs. He pushes himself up with returning strength, contemplating what needs to happen next.

He can’t continue living with Oswald like this, not after what happened. It’s gone on for too long, they’re in need of one serious talk.

Whatever this is, it’s going to end, tonight.

 

**.**

**.**

 

“Ed!” Oswald calls out through the house as he walks through the front door. He’s spent the last few hours trying to clear up some nonsense between a pair of bosses whose names he can’t even remember. At least he has a nice dinner ahead of him to take his mind off things, as long as Ed’s ready to go, that is.

The lack of response leads him to believe otherwise. The whole house is quiet aside from a faint rustling of papers coming from the office. He hobbles over to the room to investigate, and is shocked by what he finds.

The first thing he notices is the suit Ed’s wearing. He’d taken it out of its box and hung it up with a crooked hanger a few weeks ago, leaving it so that it just barely stood out from the others on the rack.

He’d hoped that seeing it again would inspire Ed, though he always knew it was a long shot...But here he is, wearing the Riddler’s uniform. If he was trying it on, maybe that meant he was considering making a comeback. Thrill shoots through him like a spear at the thought of it. Penguin and Riddler, working together to rule over Gotham, just as it should be.

However, that elation is ruined by the second thing he notices. Every book and file in the room has been unshelved as Ed continues sifting through every drawer of every filing cabinet in the office. Ed himself is too entranced with his work to have noticed him walk in, scrounging through one of the cabinets at a furious pace.

“Hello...”

The rapid searching grinds to a halt as Ed snaps his head around to look at him. Upon seeing Oswald, his gaze hardens.

“Hi,” is all he says, before he returns to the files.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t find it,” he replies brusquely, not looking up from his work. His voice is clipped, he’s definitely angry about something.

“Find what?”

“When I was staying with Isabella, she made me a paper chain of us holding hands,” he explains. “I kept it here after she died, but now I can’t find it.”

 _Isabella._ He hadn’t heard that horrid name spoken aloud in two decades.

“I haven’t seen anything fitting that description, are you sure you kept it?”

“Positive.”

“It’s paper right? Maybe the maid thought it was trash and threw it out.”

Oswald freezes as Ed slams the cabinet shut with one rough kick. After a moment of silence, Ed turns around to face him, eyes brimming with anger.

“Was it you?”

“What? No.” Yes. He’d done it as soon as he laid his eyes on the awful thing. It was just as unnerving as it had been the first time he’d seen it. Their little faces still haunted his dreams to this day.

He must have given some kind of tell because Ed’s face darkens. “It _was_ you, wasn’t it? You did it on purpose.”

“I‘ve never seen this paper chain you’re talking about,” he insists. “Whoever took it must not have known what it was. It was an honest mistake, surely.”

Ed purses his lips together. He leans back onto the cabinet, crossing his arms.

“Go find it.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Oswald scoffs. “Ed, it’s probably buried under a pile of garbage.”

“Then take a shovel with you,” he retorts.

“You’re being ridiculous. Even if it had been thrown out, it’d be somewhere at the dump by now.”

“Well, it’s only two hours until nightfall, so you’d better get cracking.”

He returns to the cabinet to continue his search, Oswald watching him, mouth agape.

“Why does a little paper chain matter so much?”

“It’s not just the chain, Oswald,” Ed seethes, hands clamped tightly onto the cabinet. “It’s my suit, and the cuff links Lee gave me for our anniversary, the photo I had of Kristen...I can’t find any of it, it’s all gone!” He shoves the cabinet over, sending it crashind to the floor and scattering paper across the room.

Oswald stares at the display with shock, before his resolve breaks and he releases a single, dry chuckle. “Are you kidding me? This is all because you’ve lost a few trinkets?”

The frown on Ed’s face twists into a scowl. “They’re not _trinkets_ , they’re more valuable than everything else I’ve ever owned.”

“Everything, huh,” Oswald sneers. “I’ve given you my home, I’ve shared my whole life with you...But no, that’s not nearly as important as a little piece of paper.” He sits down on the couch, waving for Ed to continue. “Go on then, tell me what more you could possibly want-”

“I want you to stop lying to me! For once in your life, just tell the truth. I’d thought you’d have that figured out by now, but just always have to prove me wrong.”

He doesn’t have any response to that, stunned silent by the accusation. They’d had a few fights before, little things that Ed always forgot about by next morning, but it was never this serious.

...And then it clicks. He’d been so distracted by Ed’s rampage that he’d barely noticed when he mentioned _her_ name.

“What do mean by that, _by now_ …?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Ed replies, straightening himself.

“You _do_ remember.” He pushes himself up from the couch and grabs onto Ed’s arm. “How long have you known?”

“Does it matter,” Ed asks, swatting Oswald’s hand off of him. “You just need to know how far back you need to go so you start lying again?”

He tries not to panic. Perhaps Ed has regained some portion of his memory, but who knows how long that would last. Just because he had his memories now, it doesn’t mean they were going to stay. He could still work with this.

“Fine, you are right, I haven’t been telling the truth, but that is only because you gave me no other choice. What was I supposed to do, tell you about how we used to be friends until you shot me and dumped me in the river? You think you would have ever listened to me then?”

“So what, you thought throwing my life away was the better option?”

“I did what I had to so that we could start over and make everything right between us...And you know what, I think I’ve done a damn good job of it,” he yells. “Lee could never give you any of this. Tell me, when did Lee ever take you out to the theater, hm? Or take you to nice restaurants that served all the weird foods you pretend to like so you can act like you have class, did she ever do that? No, it was me! All she ever did was hide you away to waste with the rest of that Narrows scum. We have this city in the palm of our hands, we could do things she never-”

“Oswald…”

“What?!”

Ed stares at him, his face washed out and blank. “Did you kill her?”

“Would you please-”

Ed rushes him, pulling out his pocket knife. “Did you?!”

“No!”

The blade presses against his throat. “I swear if you’re lying to me now-”

“I didn’t kill her, Ed,” he hisses, pushing the other man away. “...no matter how much you wish I had.”

“Why would I want you to kill Lee?”

“So you could keep fueling whatever hatred it is you have for me? Everyone else has moved on, but you just have to keep bringing up things that happened so long ago. It’s been twenty years, aren’t you ever going to let it go?”

“No I’m not, because you won’t _let_ me. I can’t move on if you keep trying to hide everything that’s happened.”

“...But you didn’t have to move on. I erased everything bad that ever happened between us, I made sure that you would have a good life, one without all that misery.”

It seems that Ed’s settled down enough, he takes the risk and steps closer, placing a trembling hand against his cheek.

“Ed, please, I love you, and I can fix it, if you’d just let me.” His vision blurs with tears, but he holds them back. “I can be better than she ever was, than any of them were. Haven’t I proved that yet?”

Ed releases a long, strained sigh, gently pulling Oswald’s hand away.

“That’s just it, you can’t _replace_ her, Oswald. I won’t ever not love Lee, just as I still love Kristen and Isabella. They’re all different kinds of love that can’t compare to one another, and there’s nothing you can do that will change the way I feel,” he explains. “Even if they’re dead, they’re all still a part of me. Erasing them from my life erases that part of me too.”

The words pierce his heart like a stinger, venomous grief flowing through cold veins. He’d always hoped somewhere in his mind that he alone might be enough for him, but it seemed that would never happen. Even now, after everything he's done, he couldn’t have the man to himself.

“If you can’t accept that, then I don’t know what else I can do,” Ed sighs. “Lee waited for years, and where did that get her? That’s not happening to me, I’m done waiting.”

“What are you talking about,” Oswald asks, face paling.

“I’m leaving this place, whether you like it or not.”

He swallows as the panic begins to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not after everything he’s done. He can’t be alone again, he won’t be.

“You can’t just leave, Ed. Everything you have, I’ve given you,” he shouts. “Without me you’re nothing!”

“Still trying to deflect with insults,” Ed smiles wryly. “We’re a little old for that, aren’t we?”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” he snarls. “You think you can return to the streets and take on Gotham? You’re not the Riddler, you never will be, not without my help!”

Ed’s smile pulls up into a devious smirk. “Please. Riddler and I shared the same brain for ten years.” He steps closer until he and Oswald are only inches apart. ”He might be gone, but he didn’t take everything with him.”

He heads back towards the door, leaving Oswald to ponder his words. Just as he’s passed through the frame, he turns back around.

“My rage lasts but an instant, but the scar lasts forever. What am I?”

Oswald doesn’t have the time to consider the answer when Ed pulls out a small remote, clicking the button down. A faint beeping starts from somewhere around the room.

“Oh sh-”

There’s a short blast of white, followed by darkness as the desk explodes and Oswald slams against the floor behind him. All sound is overpowered by an incessant ringing in his ears. He slowly sits up, blinking at the scattered remains of his office. When the ringing fades away, he can faintly hear the sound of the front door slamming shut.

He staggers to his feet and hops as fast as he can over to the window. From where he’s standing, he can clearly see Ed throwing open the car door and yanking the disgruntled driver from his seat.

“Ed,” Oswald yells down. “Where are you going?!”

Ed glares at him from the car. “Figure it out yourself, you idiot!” With that, he slams the door shut behind him. The tires screech as the car disappears down the driveway.

He slams the window shut, nearly breaking the stained glass in the process. His anger finally boils over and he releases a loud screech of frustration, panting heavily once he’s finished. When he looks up, Martin is watching him from the doorway, giving him that grin that he’s come to learn means _I told you s o._

“You shut your face up!”

He walks out into the living room to give himself room to think, pacing in circles across the floor.

He’s certain Ed didn’t have any safehouses outside of town. He’d have to stop somewhere to gather supplies before leaving, and he’ll need to retrieve money too. In that case, he’ll visit his statshes first, maybe he’ll send the men out and check them all in one swoop.

With that in mind, he takes a deep breath and makes his way to the door, motioning for Martin to follow him. He takes his coat from the rack, deciding it would be best for the long night he has ahead of him.

As he pulls his arms through the sleeves, he notices a small note taped to the front door. He pulls it off, reading it carefully.

_Come find me once you’re ready to stop lying._

_I can’t promise things will be the same,_

_but we can at least be on speaking terms._

_Don’t come crying to me about how this is all my fault,_

_I don’t want to hear it._

_I’ll be waiting,_

_Ed_

The note makes no mention of a location, but there’s a clue hidden within the message. There’s no way Ed would leave a note without one.

He tries the usual anagrams and acronyms, but nothing sticks out. He’ll need time to find the answer, but there’s something he needs to do first. He folds the note away in his pocket and turns back to Martin.

“Get yourself over to the lounge. I need you running things tonight,” he orders. “...And tell the men to call me for details on where to meetup. We’ve got work to do.”

 

**.**

**.**

 

He fumbles with the keys to his apartment, a difficult task under the crappy porch light at the dead of night. It isn’t until he’s already found and shoved them into the keyhole that he realizes the door isn’t locked.

His body tenses, he knows for sure the door was locked when he left. Someone must have broken in.

With little in the way of defense, he’ll have to proceed with caution. He pushes the door open just enough for him to slip inside, taking careful footsteps through the living room. It’s a good thing he’d never bought a bigger house. If the intruder’s still here, he’ll find them in no time.

Sure enough, his search doesn’t take long. He finds the culprit in the kitchen, sitting alone at his table. It’s a man he hasn’t seen in years, pouring a bottle of his best whisky into a pair of glasses.

“Hello Ed.”

“Heya Jim,” Ed replies, voice overly joyful. It’s the forced tone that Jim and everyone else at the GCPD has learned means he’s angry. In that case, it’s best if he stays on guard.

“Should I be taking your breaking and entering as another one of your grand returns to villainy?”

Ed waves him off. “You can relax, I’m not here as the Riddler.”

“Alright then,” Jim relaxes, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

“It’s been a while since we last spoke. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and we’ll have ourselves a little chit chat,” Ed says, pointing to the chair across from him.

“I’m not feeling all that talkative at the moment.”

“Please, I insist. I’ve been having a bit of trouble and I’m in need of your advice.”

“Why mine specifically,” he asks, but receives no answer. Sighing, he changes the question. “What makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

Ed quirks a brow. “...Because I think you love your daughter, and you wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her.”

Jim freezes in place. If he had his gun with him, he’d tell Ed a thing or two about threatening his daughter to his face. Unfortunately he’s short on weapons as of late. Still, he makes no moves to sit down.

Ed tuts. “Maybe you don’t love her as much as I thought.” He leans in with his usual, shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Tell me, would you have loved her more if she were Lee’s?”

Jim narrows his eyes. “So that’s what this is about? Some kind of weird jealousy you have of me?”

“Not exactly. I admit there was a time I used to admire you,” he says, looking Jim over with disdain. “...But now is not that time.”

Jim pulls the chair back and takes his seat at the table.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but I do know you’re bluffing. Barbara’s not in Gotham, she’s visiting her mom out of state. There’s no way you could have gotten to her.”

“You got me there, but…” Ed pulls out a pistol hidden beneath his jacket. “...I also have a gun.”

“Yeah? So do I.”

“Oh Jim, we both know that’s not true,” Ed smiles. “You’re still on ‘sick leave’ after that little incident you had a few months ago. I’m not even sure if putting a gun to your head qualifies as a threat, given how badly-”

“Just tell me why you’re here and let’s get this over with.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” Ed pouts. “I just want you to answer a few questions for me. Once you do that, you’re free to go.”

Jim doesn’t bother to rebuke him further, Ed takes the silence as his cue to begin.

“By the time I arrive, it’s far too late, but once I’m here, I’ll never let you go. What am I?”

Ed takes a sip of the alcohol. Jim ponders the riddle for a minute before coming up with the answer.

“Regret.”

A thumbs up. “That’s correct!”

Jim sighs. “Okay, what are you regretting?”

Ed shakes his head. “Oh no, we’re not here to talk about me. Let’s talk about your regrets.”

His jaw tightens as he grits his teeth. “You want to know if I regret where I left things with Lee.”

“Don’t you?”

“I regret that night when Galavan died. If I’d left then, we could have lived our life together...But then Bruce Wayne would be dead, and that would have been on me. Maybe it’s for the better we parted ways.”

By the look on Ed’s face, that’s not the answer he wanted to hear, but that’s his problem.

“There’s no good in looking back, not when there’s nothing to be done. It’s in the past now, and the woman I loved died a long time ago.“

“Cut the shit,” Ed snaps. “You’ve always been a bit on edge, but you held together long enough. Then Lee dies, and all of a sudden you’re ready to off yourself, just like that? Don’t try to tell me that your feelings for her are in the past, because that’s a lie. You were going to get married, start a family together, that isn’t something you just forget about.“

“You’re right, we were going to have a family...But we didn’t, and whose fault is that,” Jim seethes. “I don’t know how Lee ever forgave you for what you did, but I never forgot who it was that ruined the life we had.”

Ed scoffs. “You think things ended between you and Lee when you went to prison, but they didn’t. The woman you loved lived a good twenty years after all of that, and what did you do about it? You stood by as her life fell apart. Even when she tried to take you back and leave this place, you refused. She didn’t end anything, you gave up on her, because your were too much of a coward to love her.”

“I’m no coward,” Jim growls and Ed quirks a brow. ”You’re right, I always loved her, still do. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about how things could have been. You have no idea how many times I had to stop myself from dropping everything and running away with her.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“...Because I couldn’t. I swore my life over to this city the day I took up the badge. As soon as Lee claimed the Narrows, I knew things would never return to the way things were. I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. If I’d gone with her, It’d have been a betrayal to my men, my city. I couldn’t do that to them.”

Ed falls back into his chair. “So that’s really it? You gave up the love of your life for the pride of having Gotham in your grasp.”

“It’s not about pride, it’s about what’s right. This place is my home. I can’t sacrifice it to the fire just to fuel my own desires.”

Ed goes silent as he considers his words. It’s taken a while, but Jim can start to see the facade breaking from his face. Beneath the veil of anger lies a man in utter misery, it’s almost enough to make him feel bad for him.

“Well, I hope the same can’t be said for everyone,” Ed replies with a sad smile. He finishes the last bit of whisky from his glass and leaves it on the table before pushing the chair back.

Jim sighs as Ed passes him, heading towards the front door. He knows should keep his mouth shut and let him go on his way, but something at the back of his mind tells him otherwise. There’s too many thoughts he’s been having, things he can’t shake off.

“What good would it have done, had I gone back to her?”

The footsteps come to a stop.

“She had the Narrows, she was their queen. She hadn’t needed me then, what more could I have given her but sadness?” He takes his first drink, bitterness running down his throat. “We were together for over a year, and in that time alone, everything we had was gone. All I ever did was cause her pain, she was better off without me.”

“That might be true,” Ed replies quietly. “She had everything she needed, but she still wanted you to be part of it.“

Yes, he knew that. Many times she’d given him the ultimatum, help me and save yourself, or leave me alone. Despite the fact that he refused her each time, she always came back to him with those same conditions.

“Did Lee…”

“What?”

“Do you think, after everything that happened, she could have loved me again?”

When he turns back to look at Ed, his expression has softened.

“She never stopped, Jim. That’s what hurt the most.”

With that, Ed walks out the door, leaving him alone once again, only his thoughts to keep him company.

 

**.**

**.**

 

“Can you tell us what we’re looking for again? Some kind of paper thing?”

“How many times do you people need me to repeat myself,” Oswald growls. “It’s a paper chain of Ed and a woman in a black dress holding hands.”

“I’m just saying, there’s a lot of paper around here. I think we’re gonna need more description of this thing.”

“How much more descriptive can it get?!”

After Ed left, Oswald had gathered together a small group of his thugs, giving them the task of sorting through the garbage at the dump. Only one of the men had dared to roll his eyes at the order, and he’d been quickly disposed of. The rest of them had begrudgingly gone over with shovels in hand, ready to dig through the mountainous piles of garbage.

The good news was that he had a narrowed range of where the chain might be. The Gotham dump kept records of where they dropped off their trash on certain weeks. It came in handy for the police trying to date the corpses that got called in every other day, as well as when a certain crime boss’ significant other was being a bit difficult.

“Why don’t you just make one yourself, boss?”

Oswald sighs. “If I tried to make one, he’d probably accuse me of of trying to replace original, and that would start a whole other problem I don’t need right now.”

“That sounds overly complicated and laborious on your part. Allow me to give you my condolences for this unfortunate plight of yours.”

“For fuck sake Lorenzo, I’m not paying you to make small talk. Pick up the shovel and start digging!”

While he sets his thugs loose on the yard, he contemplates what he’s going to do next. Even if by some miracle he managed to find the chain, there was no telling if he’d be able to find Ed.

All of the stashes had been checked, Ed hadn’t been to any of them, so he couldn’t have left Gotham yet. He’d already gone to Cherry’s, the Riddle Factory, the police station, the old hideout Ed used to have, none of them yielding any clues as to where he could be.

Then there was the other matter of what they’d do when they did find each other. If Ed still had his memories by then, he’d know about everything that happened between them. If he was still angry after all Oswald had done for him, what more was there he could do?

“Not to question your orders, but maybe it would be better if you got him something else,” one of the other men suggests.

“No,” he snaps,” it needs to be this, just keep looking.”

“...But I mean look where we are, boss. There’s all this stuff just lying around, I’m sure you could find something else he liked. My cousin found a really nice ring scroungin’ ‘round this dump, made himself a couple hundred bucks.”

“Wait a minute...” Oswald shuffles over to him. “What did you just say?”

“It’s true, had genuine diamond and everything. It’s like they say, one man’s trash-”

“No, before that!”

“All this stuff’s just lying around?”

Something about those words twists knots in his mind, until it finally clicks.

He pulls out the note from his pocket and reads it over once more.

 _...once you’re ready to stop_ lying

. _..we can at least be on_ speaking _terms_

 _...don’t come_ crying _to me_

 _...I’ll be_ waiting

“Boss?”

He fold the note back, a small smile on his face.

“I know where he is.”

 

**.**

**.**

 

The mornings are even colder than the nights, the air wet with dew that could chill the hottest of summers. By this time he’s usually back home ready to sleep, as most of the other citizens already are. Walking up the cemetery’s path, Oswald decides he misses not being awake this early anymore. There aren’t any cars on the streets, no people. It’s quiet, aside from the chirping of birds in the trees, peaceful.

When he reaches the top of the hill, he’s dismayed to discover that he’s still alone, Ed nowhere in sight. Walking up to Lee’s grave, he finds a single rose laid before the stone, the only sign that he was ever here.

Were there anyone here to see him cry, they would pass it off as grief, but he would know better. He won’t shed tears, not where he could give her the satisfaction of seeing him like this. A saner part of him still tells him she wouldn’t care, that she never did, but raw hatred is all he has left at this point.

He continues walking the path, rounding the corner to the other side of the hill. He stops when he finds there’s someone else down the way.

Sitting at one of the benches overlooking the hills is Ed, staring off into the sky. He releases a sigh of relief as he realizes he isn’t too late.

He shuffles over as fast as he can until he’s standing to the side of the bench. If Ed’s noticed his presence, he makes no sign of it. He quietly takes a seat at the opposite side, following his gaze out to the pink sky.

“I’ve never seen a sunrise from here. I don’t usually come by this early,” he chuckles. “Now that I think about it, I haven’t come back here in long time. Maybe I’ll pay my mother a visit.”

He waits for Ed to say something, but he doesn’t pay him any attention.

Oswald sighs. “Okay, you want the truth…” He swallows, choosing his next words carefully. “The truth is...you never needed me to begin with.”

Again, he waits for Ed’s reaction, nothing happens. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“When you found me in the woods, after my mother died, I was ready to give up everything. I’d been made a fool of, everyone else had left me for dead, but you didn’t. You still believed in me. You came to me asking for guidance, but it was you that guided me back from my own despair. When I asked you to help me with my campaign, again, you were the only one that believed I could do it. It was the first time since anyone other than my parents had seen how great I could be, and it felt like I was loved again.”

He focuses hard on the scene in front of him, so much so that doesn’t notice Ed’s turned his head towards him.

“Then you met Isabella, and it felt like the love was taken away all over again. I’d been planning to tell you that night, I don’t think I’ve ever told you that. I had a feast set out for us, I’d spent the whole day thinking of how I would make it perfect for you, but you never came home that night...And then by the next morning, it was too late.” He breath hitches. “I was so angry and bitter. She was everything that you’d ever wanted, how could I begin to compare to that? So I got rid of her, but that only made everything worse.

“I tried to move past it, but no matter how hard I tried to distract myself, I never stopped missing you. The Riddler couldn’t love me, but I’d have rather spent my life with his indifference than have you hating me...But then I realized that there was something even worse than you hating me, because you’d forgotten all about me. When Lee died, I took the chance and decided to start fresh, and even then I couldn’t accept that you might ever come around for me.”

He shivers slightly, a small stream of tears rolling down his cheeks. The weight he’s carried over the past years slips away, and he finds himself feeling lighter with each word falling from his mouth.

“I know that everything that’s happened between us is my fault, and I know that you might not ever forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

He turns back to look up Ed, finding the man watching him with concerned eyes.

“Do I know you, sir?”

For a moment, his heart stops in his chest, but then Ed smiles.

“Just kidding.”

Oswald points his umbrella at Ed’s face. “I have half a mind to kill you right here.”

Ed shrugs. “We’re already at a cemetery, saves us some of the trouble.” He scoots himself over so that they’re sitting closer together. “Since we’re doing this, it’s only fair that I apologize as well.”

“For what?”

“I’ve had a few hours to really think things over. All this time, I’ve blamed you for everything that’s happened between us, but now I see you were only partially at fault. There were so many things I hadn’t realized you wouldn’t know, and things I knew you didn’t."

“What are you talking about?”

“I knew that you had feelings for me, from the very beginning.” He ducks his head down. “At the time, I didn’t think that it was anything more than friendship, but I knew we’d made some kind of connection. I knew that if I made you happy, you would help me get whenever I needed, and I took advantage of that.”

The confession hits him like a bucket of water. “You’re saying the whole time we were friends, you were just using me?”

“...Yes,” he admits. “I didn’t think much on it back then, I was so caught up in myself to care...But I pushed your trust too far. Even when I could tell having Isabella around made you uncomfortable, I kept talking about her and spending more time at her apartment. You may have been the one that killed her, but I’m still responsible for it in a way, I can accept that now.”

He mind tells him he should be angry, but instead he’s calm. It feels good to have that guilt removed from his conscience, even if it’s in such bittersweet fashion.

“Well, I will always consider those days as some of the best in my life, even if it was always one-sided.”

Ed cocks his head to the side. “I’m not so sure that it was…”

“...But you just said…”

“I’ve felt betrayal before, and many times afterwards, but it wasn’t same with you. I was so angry when I realized what you’d done, but I was also sad and empty. After you were gone, I felt like I was going crazy, and I tried desperately to find someone to replace you. That couldn’t have happened if you didn’t mean anything to me.”

Oswald’s lips quirk into a small smile. “You’re saying you had feelings for me? Even when you thought you were just manipulating me?”

Ed nods. “I hadn’t even realized it happened. I suppose that’s why it was so easy the second time around, hm?”

Oswald chuckles at the sentiment, but it falters soon enough. “If only we’d left it at that. You’d have been better off without me.”

“That’s not true,” Ed says, leaning in. “When I said that Lee and those other women would always be with me, I meant that for you as well. I wouldn’t be who I am if you hadn’t come into my life. You’re a part of me now.”

“Yeah, the bad part. We’ve been friends, enemies, even lovers, and all you’ve gotten out of it are bad memories.”

“I think the same can be said of you too,” Ed says with a melancholy smile,”...but you’ve lived with your’s far longer than I have with mine.”

Ed takes Oswald’s hand in his own, contemplating as he rubs small, soft circles over his skin with his thumb.

“You and I have done terrible things to each other, and that’s never going to change...But that was long ago, and we are far different from the men we were then. If you can move on from it, then so can I.”

“Just like that, after everything bad that’s happened between us,” he asks, and Ed nods. “How?”

“I can start a war or end one. I can give you the strength of heroes or leave you powerless. I might be snared with a glance, but no force can compel me to stay. What am I?”

He smiles. “Is it love?”

A thumbs up. “Correct.”

“Cheesy old bastard,” Oswald chuckles, pressing a quick kiss against his lips. As they settle into one another, he hears something crinkle in his pocket. “I have something for you,” he says, taking out a paper ball and placing it in Ed’s hands.

Ed unfurls the ball, unwrinkling the small paper chain.

“Oh, you found it,” he says, looking it over. “I didn’t really think…”

“It wasn’t a big deal, those meatheads needed the exercise anyways. You can leave it out for display if you’d like, I promise not to make a fuss over it.”

Ed shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no point of keeping it anymore,” he says, tossing it into the trash bin next to the bench. When he looks back around, Oswald is giving him the most unimpressed look he can manage. “The faces kind of creeped me out.”

“So what do we do now,” Oswald asks, just thinking out loud more than anything.

“Lee and I had thought about going down South once,” Ed suggests. “She talked about that little house she had when she and Mario were living in the country all the time, kept going on and on about how quiet it was.”

“That sounds nice. I think I could use quiet for a little while.”

“Same here,” Ed smiles. “Besides, I’ve heard Martin has been meeting with some of the other bosses behind your back. They say he’s planning to pull your empire out from under your feet. We might want to leave sooner than later if you don’t want to risk getting killed.”

Oswald’s eyes widen in shock. “You’re sure about that,” he asks and Ed nods. He laughs. “Well it’s about damn time. I didn’t raise that boy to be someone else’s lackey for the rest of his life.”

Ed pats him on the leg. “I’ll put together an itinerary, have some of your men pack up for us. We can be gone by nightfall if we want.”

As Ed makes to stand, Oswald pulls down on his arm.

“Do we have to go just yet? I want to make sure the sun comes up.”

Ed gives him an odd glance, but shrugs. “I guess we can wait a little longer,” he says, turning his eyes back to the sky.

Oswald knows how strange it must sound, wanting to make sure the sun comes up. Of course it will, it’s done so every day for billions of years. Even so, he needs to see it happen, just to make sure it’s real.

After a few quiet minutes, the first rays of light pool over the horizon, and he finally processes everything that’s happened. He knows it’s real when he he feels the warmth blossoming over his skin. He knows it’s real when he leans to the side, resting against Ed’s chest.

“Thank you for giving me another chance,” he says quietly.

“I’m glad I did,” Ed says, wrapping his arm around Oswald’s shoulder. “Thanks for giving me one too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And we’re done! This is the first fic I’ve ever finished :0  
>  Thanks so much to everyone that’s read, kudosed and commented <3  
> If you’re still looking for more Nygmobblepot and would appreciate something a little longer, may I suggest taking a look at my other fic [Reformation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830862/chapters/29294667)


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